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Hppletons’ 
Uown anP Countrp 
Xibrarp 


No. 303 




WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT 
O’ THE WINDOW 


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WHEN LOVE 
FLIES OUT O’ 
THE WINDOW 


By / 

LEONARD MERRICK 

Author of 

The Worldlings,” ‘‘The Actor Manager,” 
“ Cynthia — A Daughter of the 
Philistines,” etc. 



iorfe 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


1901 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copifcd Received 

SEP. 6 1901 

Copyright entry 
CLASS CJ^XXc. N». 
COPY B. 


Copyright, 1901, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
Ah rights reserved. 


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WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT 
O’ THE WINDOW 


CHAPTER I 

When the omnibus left the Royal Oak there 
were seven strangers in it; one of them was a girl. 
Because the sun was shining, and she had risen 
with a little hope in her heart, she wondered 
where the six others were going, and what their 
stories were. In the morning, while she was 
jolted into town expectant, she often scanned 
the faces of the women opposite, and tried to 
guess their lives; in the afternoon, when she re- 
turned despairing, she noted nothing but the 
superiority of their clothes. 

Hers were eloquent. The hat suited her, 
but it was a white Leghorn, and the month was 
October; her gloves were carefully put on — too 
rare a virtue in woman — but they smelt of ben- 
zine; her cheap lace tie was fresh, but pinned to 
hide the shabbiness l)f her coat-front — and she 
had tucked most of her skirt out of sight. 


2 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

She was a pale little girl, with fair hair, and 
eyes the colour of forget-me-nots. She looked 
as if she needed happiness and three good meals 
every day. When she grew tired of conjectur- 
ing the affairs of the glum-faced six, her mind 
reverted to her own; and then her lips tightened, 
and anxiety showed in her expression for all to 
read. The others in the Tus read nothing, how- 
ever, except the advertisements extolling cocoa 
and soap. 

Her history was quite commonplace. She 
had a voice; and once singing masters had taken 
guineas for training it, and a devoted father had 
foreseen a brilliant career for her. Not without 
a struggle had he resigned himself to the idea of 
her becoming celebrated, but he was a medical 
man with a moribund practice, and he said: ‘^As 
Heaven has given Meenie a fortune in her throat, 
perhaps it would be wrong of me to stand in her 
way.’’ When he had persuaded himself to ac- 
cept this view, the singing masters who accepted 
the guineas congratulated him on his wise de- 
cision. So Meenie studied harder than ever 
to win the fortune. And meanwhile the practice 
died; and the following summer her father died 
too. 

Then Meenie Weston took her voice into the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 3 

market-place, and the last death to embitter her 
youth was the death of her illusion. The little 
money in her possession melted rapidly. The 
prophecies of the professors ceased with the pay- 
ment of the fees. She wrote letters to eminent 
impresarios, and received no answers from them. 
She pleaded in person for concert engagements, 
eager very soon to earn a sovereign, and learnt 
that novices were expected to sing gratis for the 
advantage of being heard. She volunteered to 
sing gratis for the advantage of being heard, 
and was asked to take twenty pounds’ worth of 
tickets — in other words to pay the manager for 
putting her on his platform. When she ex- 
plained that she couldn’t afford it, the manager, 
who was renowned for the services he had ren- 
dered musical art in England, said that there 
were many young singers who could, and turned 
his back on her. 

With such histories London teems, and many 
of them have their sequels in the chorus of the 
comic-opera stage. It was into the chorus of 
comic opera that she drifted at last, nodding her 
head, and clapping her hands, and tripping to 
right and left in a scantily dressed crowd for 
higher wages than she could earn by ruining her 
health behind a counter. And now, at twenty- 


4 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

two, she expected nothing better. As the om- 
nibus rumbled up Edgware Road, she was hop- 
ing for another chorus engagement as passion- 
ately as she had once hoped to be a prima donna, 
for she had been trying to obtain one for a long 
while, and all that remained in her purse, after 
the conductor collected fares, was sevenpence 
halfpenny and some pawn tickets. 

She drove as far as twopence entitled her to 
go, and got out at the corner of Tottenham Court 
Road and Oxford Street. It was her custom to 
walk from this point to the Strand, and to call 
in quest of an opening at the offices of the dra- 
matic agents; but this morning she was not go- 
ing direct to the Strand. For once her prospect 
was a shade brighter. 

She made her way down Charing Cross Road 
into Shaftesbury Avenue. Here somebody 
called to her by name, and, turning, she saw a 
girl who had been on tour with her in the spring. 

‘‘Oh, Miss Russell! How are you? Did 
I pass you? ’’ 

“ How d’ye do. Miss Weston? Why, I 
thought you were in America, my dear! ” 

Among the ladies of the chorus “ my dear ” 
does not necessarily imply regard; they are “ my 
dear ” to one another the moment they are in- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 5 

troduced: “ Miss Fitz-Gerald, this is my friend 
Miss St. George.” Then Miss St. George and 
Miss Fitz-Gerald say at the same time: “ Pleased 
to meet you, my dear! ” 

Meenie and her acquaintance shook hands 
outside a costumier’s, and took stock of each 
other. Miss Russell put the stereotyped ques- 
tion : 

“ Well, what are you doing now? Where 
are you? ” 

Meenie made an unusual answer: 

“ I’m not doing anything — I can’t find any- 
thing to do.” 

Such unprofessional candour surprised Miss 
Russell; she forgot to boast. 

“ I’m looking for a ‘ shop ’ myself,” she said. 
“ How long have you been ‘ out ’? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve had a long spell of it — months! 
I suppose you can’t tell me of anything, can 
you? ” 

“ Not me! All the companies are on the 
road at this time of year; there won’t be a chance 
now till Christmas. Have you settled for 
Panto? ” 

“‘Pantomime!’” The girl who had 
dreamed of singing Isolde sighed. “ I sha’n’t be 
able to wait till pantomime. I shall be buried 


6 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

before the pantomimes are produced if something 
doesn’t turn up first.” 

” That’s rough,” returned the other. 
“Things are bad with you, are they? Well, 
they aren’t very gay with me, goodness knows. 
I was going to R’ussia for six weeks, but it fell 
through.” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Meenie. “ You see, I’ve 
been ill,” she added; “ that is why I’m not in the 
American tour, and couldn’t look for anything 
else until it was too late. I’ve sometimes 
wished I hadn’t got well again.” 

“And what price is this one? I’ve been out 
with The Lady Barber since I saw you, and the 
tour dried up, and they left us to pay our own 
fares back from Grimsby. How’s that? Of 
course the kiddies are with mother, but I’ve got 

to send a ‘ P. O.’ every week, and ” She 

groaned, and put out her hand again. “ Well, 

I wish you better luck, my dear! I must be off; 
I’ve got to get to Camberwell.” 

Meenie stood wrestling with a strong temp- . 
tation to be mean. Then she said feebly: 

“ I’ll tell you of the only opening I know my- 
self: they’re trying voices at the Piccadilly. I 
heard it at Potter’s yesterday — I’m going there 
now.” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW ^ 


''Well, Fm blessed!” exclaimed Miss Rus- 
sell; "you are a trump and no mistake! ” She 
came near to blushing. " To tell you the truth,” 
she owned, " that’s where I was going myself, 
and I didn’t mean to lose a chance by giving you 
the hint. Ain’t I a cat?” 

" No-no,” said Meenie — but the confession 
hurt her — " you aren’t a cat ; you’re a soprano, 
and so am 1. Let us hope there will be room for 
both of us! / nearly held my tongue about it 
too.” 

They proceeded toward the Piccadilly Thea- 
tre together, and entered the stage door. The 
functions of a stage doorkeeper, so far as they 
are to be ascertained by observation, consist of 
eating his meals in a violent draught, and adding 
by every means in his power to the aspirant’s 
difficulties. In the present case, however, the 
chorus ladies had no need to buy civility with a 
shilling, nor to wait while their names were taken 
in. The announcement that the agent had sent 
them down served as open sesame, and .they 
were suffered to pass into a passage which led 
to the stage. 

At the sight of it they glanced at each other 
in dismay. One would have imagined that half 
the chorus girls in London were congregated 


8 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


here, and every one was holding a dilapidated 
copy of a ballad that had been her test song for 
years. A noticeable peculiarity of all the copies 
was the form in which they had been folded: 
chorus ladies always secrete their songs in their 
pockets on their way to have their voices tried, 
because each applicant for an engagement de- 
sires it to be believed that she is too well known 
for any trial to be necessary. 

As the new-comers merged into the crowd, 
several threw them despondent greetings. Af- 
ter the sunshine outside it was dark in the thea- 
tre, for the only illumination came from the 
T-piece, and it was a few seconds before they be- 
gan to distinguish the features of those who 
nodded to them. At a piano an elderly woman 
in a black dress was playing an accompaniment. 
In the stalls a posse of important gentlemen, 
who were supposed to be listening, smoked ci- 
gars, and exchanged remarks in not very sub- 
dued tones. When the girl who was endeavour- 
ing to make herself heard had sung the first 
verse, one of them got up, and said brusquely: 

'' Thank you, my dear. You can leave your 
name and address. Next, please!’' 

She's out of it! ” remarked Miss Russell in 
a cheerful whisper, and the girl pocketed her 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 9 

tattered music with evident discomfiture. ‘‘ You 
can leave your name and address ’’ is the doom 
evasive. 

Another girl was called down to the piano. 
She inquired nervously if the lady in black knew 
She Often Dreamed of Happier Days. The 
lady in black didn't. It is characteristic of the 
chorus mistress never to know the accompani- 
ment of the song which the applicant particu- 
larly wishes to sing. The girl began Nobody's 
Darling but Mine instead, and just as she was 
approaching her favourite note, the stout gentle- 
man who had spoken before stopped her with — 

‘‘ Yes, my dear. Thank you." 

At this the girl turned paler than she had 
been when she commenced, and retired in con- 
fusion. ‘‘ Yes, my dear, thank you," is the doom 
direct. 

The crowd came down to the piano one by 
one. Some left it jauntily; some withdrew 
abashed. After she had been standing about 
the stage for two hours, Meenie seized an op- 
portunity to address the stout gentleman: 

Oh, please will you hear me? " she said. 

Do hear me! Mr. Potter sent me down." 

'' What's your voice? " he asked. 

Soprano, Mr. Jenkinson." 


10 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


Soprano? ” he said shrilly. Good Lord, 
we're overdone with sopranos! No use, my 
dear; very sorry, very sorry, but we only want 
contraltos now." He put up his arms and 
shouted: 

No more sopranos wanted, ladies! So- 
pranos needn't wait! " 

A loud chattering arose, and soprani, pretty, 
plain, tall, short, clumsy, graceful, dowdy, and 
smartly dressed flocked through the wings with 
resentful faces. Meenie stood where he had left 
her, swallowing a lump in her throat. She felt 
that her last chance had gone, and she was hope- 
less. After a moment she looked round for 
Miss Russell, but Miss Russell had gone too. 


CHAPTER II 


It was one o’clock, so the little girl betook 
herself forlornly to a dairy, where a glass of milk 
and a scone served her for dinner. She would 
have preferred a bun, but a scone is more filling, 
and the same price. 

She sat in the milk-shop wondering what she 
could find to pawn on the morrow. Her father’s 
watch and chain and a locket that had been 
her mother’s had been pledged already. Per- 
haps she could obtain a few shillings on a white 
silk frock, which was a relic of the days when 
she used to go to parties. There was certainly 
nothing else. She decided to run out with it 
when she was sure the landlady was in the base- 
ment. So far her landlady had not suspected 
the lodger’s visits to the pawnbroker’s, or she 
would have given her notice — forestalling a pe- 
tition to wait for the rent. 

When the scone was eaten, and she had fin- 


12 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


islied the milk, Meenie went out into the street 
again. There was nothing for her now but her 
daily routine, and she trudged to the Strand. 
She must go to Potter’s. She wanted to tell 
him that she couldn’t get in at the Piccadilly, and 
to implore him to find her something else. But 
Potter’s was always besieged — Potter’s this 
afternoon would be thronged — she would be 
amazingly lucky if she contrived to speak to him. 

The location of Mr. Potter’s dramatic agency 
was as well known to theatrical folk as the 
whereabouts of Trafalgar Square; his name, and 
the description of his business, in the doorway, 
were merely a concession to custom — a faded 
superfluity. As Meenie neared the end of her 
walk, an experienced eye showed her several 
strangers bound for Potter’s; she could tell their 
calling by their carriage and their costumes — and 
the neighbourhood that they were in left little 
doubt as to their destination. 

She mounted a stone staircase as high as she 
could go, and then paused patiently. Over the 
heads of the actors and actresses avid of engage- 
ments she could read a printed notice to the 
effect that ladies and gentlemen were requested 
not to block the landing. Nobody else appeared 
to have noticed it, however. On the stage of the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 3 


Piccadilly Theatre the crowd had been composed 
solely of choristers; here, on the staircase of the 
agent, chorus girls rubbed elbows with the hero- 
ines of melodramas — lovers, villains, ingenues, and 
Irish comedians were thrown together indiscrim- 
inately. Provincial actresses compared notes of 
their successes — on both sides edited for publi- 
cation. Men attired in their best suits boasted 
to women having every natural, and many an 
unnatural, shade of hair. In the hum of voices 
such falsehoods as Seven pounds a week, my 
dear, but that wasn't good enough for me! " could 
be caught continually. When a glimpse was 
obtainable through the mob of the earlier arriv- 
als who had secured seats in the waiting-room, 
girls could be seen devouring sandwiches — 
clients who had come resigned to spend the day 
here, and carried their luncheons (with their 
powder-puffs) in their satchels. 

The waiting-room, when she reached it at 
last, contained many accustomed figures. There 
were the girls who were able to keep up appear- 
ances, and to call in different hats each time; her 
own was always the same. There were girls 
who, like herself, came every day, and had learnt 
one another's clothes by heart. Every day they 
sat here — and always with a fainter hope; every 


14 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

day they went away desponding — each to the 
trouble that the others didn't know. 

She stood by the mantel-piece, and stared at 
the great photographs of triumphant women 
which decorated the walls. How she had grown 
to hate them! The smiling favourites of the 
West End seemed to mock her. Sometimes 
she could Lave dashed her fist against the glass 
that preserved a picture as she waited, hour after 
hour, with aching feet, under a portrait that sim- 
pered, ceaselessly simpered, in her face. 

A superior person who drew a salary every 
week in the year rattled without respite at 
her typing-machine. Meenie contemplated her 
jealously. A youth of important bearing sat at 
a table making entries in an account-book. He 
also had regular employment, and she envied 
him as well. The door of the private office 
opened, and Mr. Potter came out and crossed 
briskly to his partner’s. Had the Queen entered, 
the sensation would have been less. A dozen 
men and women sprang toward him, clamour- 
ing; in pitiable eagerness one girl caught at his 
coat-tails. 

Can’t see any of you now,” he said, and 
vanished. A Brobdingnagian sigh seemed to be 
heaved in the room. Meenie dropped back to 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 1 5 

the fireplace drearily. .For a minute nobody 
spoke. The relentless racket of the typing- 
machine was the only sound. 

'' You look tired, my dear. Sit down here, 
if you like — I can squeeze up.'’ 

She turned her head, and saw that the speaker 
was a young woman whom she had not remarked 
before. 

'' Thanks,” she murmured; I should be very 
glad to.” 

It’s tiring work.” 

'' Very,” she said. How long have you 
been here? ” 

Four hours. And I don’t want an engage- 
ment — I’m only waiting to tell him that I can’t 
take one.” 

You’re lucky.” 

Well, I suppose I am. You see. I’ve half 
settled with him to join The A. B. C. Girl, and 
this morning I got a much better offer on my 
own account. That’s just how things happen, 
isn’t it? I came here as early as I could — I must 
tell him how I stand at once.” 

In The A. B. C. Girl? ” said Meenie. Is 
it for chorus? If you don’t want it, there might 
be a chance for me, I am trying for a chorus 
^ shop.’ ” Her vocabulary included a few of the 


l6 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

slang terms of her profession by this time. She 
had acquired them inevitably, although she had 
begun by shuddering at them. 

‘‘ Oh, no, my dear,'’ answered the other, ‘‘ it 
isn't for chorus; it's a small part. It wouldn't 
suit you a bit, I'm sure. They want a big girl 
with a figure like mine — somebody who can talk 
to the band! " 

The sense of the last words was lost on 
Meenie, though she was not sufficiently inter- 
ested to ask what they meant. They referred to 
one of the alleged humours of musical comedy. 
It is, in these productions, occasionally the duty 
of the orchestra to pretend to confuse a vocalist 
by the iteration of a bar that sounds like oom- 
tarara. The young lady stops them, saying, 
Thank you; I've had quite enough of your im- 
pudence! " Then, in a tone of portentous warn- 
ing, she adds, Tiddley push! " And the audi- 
ence yells. The expression was esoteric; the 
girl showed that her education had not extended 
so far as that. 

“You're new in the business, aren't you?" 
said the woman. “ What have you done? " 

“ I've been on tour — only the chorus. That’s 
all I'm looking for now; I don't expect to get 
anything better — I'm not good enough." 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1/ 

‘‘ Oh, never say die! YouVe got a good ap- 
pearance, anyhow, and that's half the battle. 
Why don't you take a few lessons? Haven't 
you got any people who can afford to pay for 
some for you? " 

‘‘ My people did pay for some," said Meenie 
in low tones. “ They are dead." 

There was a little pause. The machine clat- 
tered furiously, and a girl with a voice of brass 
could be heard saying: She can call herself 

' Principal Boy ' till she's blue, but I'm engaged 
to play Dandini! Which part gets the most 
money in Cinderella! " 

'' It's a bad job when you've got no luck, and 
no ' oof,' and you're all alone," continued the 
woman. ‘'Are you all alone? Lor! I know 
what it is, my dear — no need to tell me — you can 
jolly well starve between the ‘ shops,' that's what 
you can do!" She hesitated for a second. 
“ Do you think you could take anything better 
than chorus if you got the chance?" she in- 
quired. 

“ Wliy? " said Meenie, with a little stirring at 
the heart. “ Do you mean that I might get in 
The A. B. C. Girl after all?" 

“ No, I tell you you aren't tall enough for 
that. But they're making engagements for the 


l8 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


show that I want to join; if Fd heard you I’d 
speak for you to-morrow. Anyhow, there’s a 
tip for you, if you like to try.” 

‘‘ Like to try? ” Meenie smiled. ‘‘ Fm ever 
so glad to hear of it! What company is it? 
What’s the part? ” 

'' It isn’t a part, it’s a concert engagement for 
Paris. They want two or three people to sing 
in English. It’s only a small hall — I dare say 
you’d be quite strong enough. I was at the 
agent’s this morning, so I know they aren’t com- 
plete yet. If Potter hasn’t got anything for you, 
Fd go round the first thing in the morning, if I 
were you.” 

I’ll go now,” exclaimed Meenie, rising; 
they may have settled with everybody by to- 
morrow. Where’s the office? Is it near? ” 

'^Yes, only a minute. Look here, I won’t 
wait any longer myself! I’ll send Potter a wire, 
and we’ll go together. I do hope something 
will come of it. You looked such a heap of mis- 
ery when you were standing there. That was 
how I came to speak to you.” 

''And I felt miserable, I can tell you. I 
don’t know your name; mine is Meenie Wes- 
ton.” 

" Mine’s Nelly Joyce. Now don’t blame me 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I9 

if it's a frost — it depends what your voice is like. 
Come on! " 

Meenie nodded, and hurried down the stairs 
much more cheerfully than she had ascended 
them. In Bedford Street the lights of the Bo- 
dega were inviting, and Miss Joyce proposed that 
they should '' drink luck " to the undertaking, 
and have a glass of port wine." The girl had 
been in chorus too long to be startled by the 
suggestion, and though she was fearful of losing 
the prospective salary by delay, she recognised 
the worldly wisdom of the advice. 

'' Why, you little white thing," said her com- 
panion, '' you look a sight too much as if you 
wanted a ‘shop’! That isn’t the way to get 
one. A glass of wine will perk you up, and your 
voice will sound twice as well. What are you 
going to sing? " 

“ I’ve a song in my pocket," said Meenie; 
“ I was trying to get in at Piccadilly before I 
went to Potter's." 

They sat against two barrels labelled “ Pale 
Dry " and “ Rich Old." The port, and the faint, 
lurking odour of the place soothed her nerves; 
the flower-pots in pink paper, and the blond 
head of the barmaid behind the ferns had a fes- 
tive air. The atmosphere was scarcely less 


20 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


theatrical than that of the office they had left. 
Actors lounged and chatted all round the bar; 
and some ladies and gentlemen of the chorus, 
who came in, helped themselves plentifully to 
the biscuits and cheese, and departed without 
spending a copper — their manoeuvres unnoticed 
in the crowd. 

The agency was, as Miss Joyce had said, close 
by. It was smaller than Potter's — one of the 
struggling ventures which are constantly spring- 
ing up in the streets off the Strand, generally to 
enjoy a short term of life. “ The Continental 
Operatic and Dramatic Agency " was painted 
in white letters on a black board between two 
shops, and on the first floor the name met the 
girl's eyes again. 

The outer office here was bare; the photo- 
graphs displayed were chiefly faded cabinets, and 
the walls were adorned merely by a few play-bills. 
In response to Miss Joyce's request, a boy went 
to ascertain if Mr. Hughes was disengaged, and 
after about ten minutes the pair were admitted 
to a cosily furnished room containing the inevi- 
table piano, and more likenesses of young ladies 
in tights. 

The agent cultivated a certain professional 
air himself, although he made his living by the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 21 


performance of others. His fat face was clean 
shaven, and the profuse black hair that he had 
grown was combed off his forehead without 
any parting. When they entered, he was at 
a writing-table littered with letters and the 
evening papers. Meenie thought he looked 
in a very bad temper. He did not ask them 
to sit down., but inquired curtly of Miss 
Joyce what she wanted, cutting her polite greet- 
ing short. 

I advised my friend to come and see you 
about the concert engagements,’’ she answered. 

She would like to go, too, if there’s anything 
open.” 

“ I think we’re full up,” he said. ‘‘ What 
about yourself — are you free, or not? I must 
know for certain to-morrow morning.” 

‘‘ I’ll let you know by eleven o’clock, Mr. 
Hughes.” 

He turned to Meenie, surveying her from her 
fringe to her feet. 

What experience have you had? ” 

I have been in Mr. Blandford’s companies 
on tour,” she replied. '' He was going to send 
me to America with The Fair Fakir, but I fell ill, 
and couldn’t go.” 

What parts? ” 


22 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 


Only chorus. But will you hear me? I 
have a song with me.’’ 

'' Go on, then,” he said; and she went to the 
piano and began her own accompaniment. 

She sang Lassen’s Allerseelen, giving the 
English words. Her voice was sweet, and she 
sang with feeling, ‘‘ In Death’s dark valley this 
is Holy Day.” The agent blew his cigar- 
smoke among the photographs musingly; the 
gloom on his face lightened a little, and he did 
not interrupt her. When she finished, Miss 
Joyce threw her an encouraging nod. 

‘‘All right,” he said. “ It’s a three months’ 
engagement; the terms are fifty francs a week. 
Will that suit you? I can’t do any better.” 

“ Yes,” she answered, trembling with joy, 
“ that will do. You pay the fare both ways, of 
course? ” 

“ Yes, we pay fares. Are you free to go to- 
morrow? ” 

“ I could go to-morrow, certainly. But — ” 
she hesitated — “ I’ve been ‘ out ’ a long time, 
and ” 

“You can have a pound on account of the 
first week’s salary — that’ll cover your ‘ exes ’ and 
carry you on.” He made some insertions in a 
contract, and when she had signed it he gave 


wh)j:n love flies out O’ the window 23 

her the sovereign. Be at Victoria at half-past 
eight to-morrow evening, outside the telegraph 
office, ril meet you with your ticket. That's 
all, my dear. Good afternoon." 

He jerked his head toward them both, and 
the interview was concluded. 

''Well, you're in luck!" exclaimed Miss 
Joyce as they went down: " that was soon man- 
aged, wasn't it? You've a nice little voice of 
your own, too, my dear. I knew he would set- 
tle with you as soon as you opened your mouth." 

Meenie regarded her gratefully; they saun- 
tered on a few yards together in the dusk. 

" I can't tell you how much obliged to you 
I am," she said, squeezing her arm. " I do hope 
you will get out of The A. B. C. tour — then we 
can go together! Which way are you going 
now? Fm going up Ended Street; I take a 'bus 
from Tottenham Court Road." 

This, however, was not the other's route, and 
when she had declined aTi invitation to tea at the 
Mocha, they separated. In the last half-hour the 
whole aspect of the city had changed to the girl, 
and London hummed gaily in her ears. To the 
thousands who gain a hand-to-mouth existence 
by the stage an engagement for three months 
brings a sense of security which nobody used 


24 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WIN:)OW 

to regular employment can comprehend. Her 
troubles had already faded in her mind. She 
neither looked back nor strove to see farther 
ahead. The contract was all-sufficing. A 
struggling governess she passed felt a pang of 
bitterness as the little girl who smiled so happily 
hurried by; yet even the wretched governess, had 
she known her circumstances, would have shud- 
dered in contemplating so precarious a mode 
of life. 

When Meenie had parted from her. Miss 
Joyce retraced her steps and entered the private 
office of the agent again — this time with less 
ceremony. 

‘‘ Well,’’ she said, ‘‘ what do you think of 
her, eh?” 

She’s pretty,” said the man; “ where did you 
pick her up? There won’t be many more to be 
got, I can tell you — the damn press is publishing 
a warning! Girls are ‘ earnestly warned ’ not to 
sign engagements for the Continent without 
writing to the British Consul first. There you 
are! ” He caught up the Star, and dabbed his 
finger on a paragraph: ‘"‘Dangers to English 
girls on the Continent! ’ And it’s in the West- 
minster, and the Globe, and half a dozen of ’em. 
It’ll be all over the Strand by to-morrow! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 2 $ 

She leant on the table and read the lines that 
he pointed out to her. 

‘'That’s the straight tip, isn’t it!” she mur- 
mured. “ But, lor, how many of the girls it’s 
written for ever see a newspaper? ” 

” One tells another, Nell; it gets about! ” 

“ There’ll always be plenty who are too hard 
up to be careful,” she said. “You’ve got this 
one, anyhow! And she has no people and no 
friends — so there’ll be nobody to make a fuss! ” 


CHAPTER III 

The young woman was not mistaken in her 
views. When she declared that few of those to 
whom it was directed would profit by the cau- 
tion, she was familiar with her subject; she un- 
derstood that the press was endeavouring to in- 
stil prudence into a class whose stupidity, coupled 
with their circumstances, made protection a dif- 
ficult matter. Not only would many of them 
learn nothing by the warning, but they were ig- 
norant what a British consul was. They had 
never heard of a British consul. For all they 
knew, the British Consul ” might be the name 
of a public-house. She spoke out of the depths 
of experience, for she had been in the rank and 
file of the theatres herself, and even now she sel- 
dom read anything but the advertisement sheets 
of the Era, or a novelette. 

That the tale she had recited was purely 
imaginary need hardly be said — she had neither 
26 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 2J 

an offer from The A. B. C. Girl Company nor 
any intention of proceeding to Paris. Having 
cast in her lot with Mr. Hughes, she had tem- 
porarily retired from the boards, and served 
him by touting for a business which had every 
prospect of being exposed in the police court. 
More businesses in London than millions of 
Londoners suspect are touted for by women. 
Money-lenders frequently find them useful, 
though they require them to be better dressed 
and better looking than Nelly Joyce. 

Meenie, when she could afford to buy one, 
did read a paper; it was a habit of her non-profes- 
sional days which she retained. However, in the 
life of every girl fighting to support herself 
there not unnaturally come times when the af- 
fairs of the world possess as little interest for her 
as the affairs of the struggling girl possess for the 
world. The problem which engrosses her is how 
to keep out of the workhouse. The death of a 
monarch or the defeat of a nation is trivial. The 
crisis is the landlady’s bill. 

As her excitement subsided a little, Meenie 
was stirred by a sudden anxiety about her toi- 
lette. She had not thought of it immediately, 
because she was accustomed to have her cos- 
tumes provided by the management; now it oc- 


28 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


curred to her with dismay that in a concert 
engagement she would be expected to find her 
own dress. 

The only evening frock she could boast was 
the one of doubtful white silk that she had pro- 
posed to pawn. When she reached her lodging 
she took it out of her box, and examined it rue- 
fully. She determined to smarten it as well as 
she could with some fresh ribbon and a few yards 
of lace. 

Next morning, directly she had had some 
tea and bread and butter, she went to West- 
bourne Grove to make her purchases. When 
the frock was finished, she looked through her 
music and decided what songs she would sing. 
Then she packed everything — it didn’t take long 
— and had dinner. Brave with the conscious- 
ness of money in her pocket, she had ordered 
a chop. 

When she arrived at Victoria, neither Miss 
Joyce nor Mr. Hughes were there, and she 
waited by the telegraph office impatiently. The 
agent appeared at twenty minutes to nine, and 
gave her a few directions. Replying to her, he 
said that Miss Joyce had found it impossible to 
cancel the engagement she had made for the The 
A. B. C. tour. He had brought the ticket, and 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 2g 

lest the girl's views had altered, and she should 
try to sell it, he waited to see her depart. 

‘‘ You had better drive straight to this ad- 
dress for your rooms," he said, producing a card 
that he had written on. “ The girls always stay 
there. It's very comfortable, and near the hall." 

Will the people be up when I get in? 
What time shall I be in Paris? " 

“A quarter past seven. If you have a cup of 
coffee at the station, you won't be at the house 
much before eight. You can get your money 
changed on the platform at Newhaven, if you 
want to. So long! You're off!" 

He favoured her with another jerk of the 
head, and lounged away; and she put the card 
in her purse. Her fellow passengers fell to de- 
vouring oranges and biscuits without loss of 
time. 

The journey was a cold one, but the novelty 
of it kept her amused at first. She had never 
had dealings at a money exchange; and though 
she accepted the few strange coins with misgiv- 
ing, to hold them gave her a sensation of adven- 
ture. She had never crossed the Channel; and 
to make one of the chilly crowd who filed over 
the gangway into the dipping boat, seemed more 
adventurous still. Even the discomfort of a 


3 


30 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

third-class passage did not depress her much. 
She lay among the huddled women, who alter- 
nately moaned and gurgled, rejoicing that she 
wasn't sea-sick too. The motion of the boat was 
unpleasant, and she could not sleep, but though 
she shivered from time to time, she was not actu- 
ally dreary until Dieppe was reached. 

She was just losing consciousness when the 
voices and the bustle apprised her that they were 
there. She clambered down, blinking at the 
lights, and joined the posse who pressed forward 
on the deck. The knowledge that this was 
France, which she had always been eager to see, 
could not prevent her teeth chattering in the 
custom-house. Dieppe was black, as they 
steamed slowly beside the shuttered cafes; she 
yawned at it dismally. When she reopened her 
eyes she was in Paris. 

She could say ‘‘ Pass the salt, if you please " 
in French, and ‘‘ It is the book of my brother 
but the nearest she could come to asking to be 
attended to was to utter the word ‘‘ Baggage," 
which she had heard constantly shouted on the 
quay. Fortunately, in France they recognise 
that interpreters are desirable at great termini, 
and it would not be necessary at a station there 
of equal importance to Waterloo for a German to 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 3 1 

rush distractedly about the platforms for an hour, 
seeking a traveller who could translate his in- 
quiry. 

After she had drunk the anticipated cup of 
coffee, which was a great surprise to her — for the 
perfection of the coffee in France is one of the 
articles of faith of everybody who has not been 
there — she followed her trunk to a cab. The 
extent and aspect of the station astonished her; 
she had never before seen one that had an air of 
cheerfulness. Outside, she showed the card that 
Mr. Hughes had given her to a porter; and when 
she had presented him with two coppers, she was 
rattled away. 

It was a fine morning, and the pulses of 
the little Bohemian throbbed joyously. As the 
yokel on the box invited destruction, she could 
have sung aloud. The smiling streets, the uni- 
forms of the policemen and a postman, the sight 
of the names over the shops, and the advertise- 
ments on the kiosks, delighted her. Presently 
the pace slackened; after a few minutes the cab 
stopped. She waited to ascertain if there was 
any intention of going on again, and got out. 

The street here smiled less serenely; the high 
houses were rather dilapidated. She embraced 
as much as possible of the neighbourhood in a 


32 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

glance, and pulled the bell of the door which the 
driver indicated with his whip. The bells that 
she had known in England pealed: the French 
bell emitted a single deep note, and its perform- 
ance did more to make her feel abroad than any- 
thing that had happened yet. Overhead she saw 
the words ‘‘ Chambres Garnies ’’ painted in dull 
red capitals. She hoped garnies meant 
‘‘ cheap.’’ 

The woman who confronted her the next mo- 
ment might have been credited with having run 
down from her bed, but for the fact that she had 
appeared too quickly. She looked as all Pari- 
siennes of the lower middle class look until one 
o’clock in the afternoon; her striped dressing- 
gown was soiled, her hair was tousled, and her 
face was unwashed. 

Madame Montjou? ” said Meenie. I 
have just arrived; I was recommended here for 
rooms.” 

The woman wheezed. 

‘'I was recommended here for rooms. 
Pctais recomm — ” She took Mr. Hughes’s c^rd 
out again. I want chambres.^’ 

At this the woman, who was evidently troub- 
led with asthma, became as voluble as her com- 
plaint would allow. Her fluency was restrained 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 33 

by notliing but her gasps, and it began to seem 
as if she would never leave off talking. The un- 
intelligible sentences were interlarded with ques- 
tions, and when she found they were not under- 
stood, she had recourse to gesture. The girl 
nodded in a helpless fashion; then, resorting to 
pantomime herself, held out her money, and 
pointed to the cabman. 

‘‘ I have come from the Gare St. Lazare,” she 
said. 

'' Gare St. Lazare,’’ repeated the proprietress, 
oui, oui, oui — trois francs! 

She picked them from the girl’s palm and 
shuffled to the curb; and Meenie could only sus- 
pect that the man did not get them all. 

As the cab had been discharged, she assumed 
that she was going to live here ; and the supposi- 
tion was strengthened by the woman beckoning 
to her to go upstairs. 

Her conductress wheezed shockingly as they 
mounted to the first floor. There she turned a 
handle, and with a flourish displayed a florid 
bedroom. 

‘‘ How much? ” asked Meenie. Combien 
cst iir ’’ 

The woman opened and shut both hands four 
times. 


34 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

‘‘ Francs? ’’ screamed Meenie. '' Forty 
francs pour le scmaine? She made violent signs 
of rejection. 

‘‘ Tenez! ’’ said the woman. 

They ascended to the floor above, the woman 
gripping her chest. The room shown on this 
story was a faded edition of the one below. 

“ Combien est il? '' said Meenie again. 

The wrinkled hands opened and shut until 
they signified twenty-five francs. The girl 
shook her head vehemently. 

''Tenczl^' said the woman. 

They toiled to the third — and to the fourth 
floor. The woman's breath was now whistling 
like a high wind, and Meenie counted the move- 
ments of the dirty hands, palpitating with sus- 
pense. On the fourth floor it was possible to 
acquire a room at a weekly rental of twelve 
francs. She agreed to it by a nod, and intimated 
that she would like some breakfast. 

Tenez ! " said the woman, and shuffled out. 


I 


CHAPTER IV 

She returned presently with a jug of choco- 
late and some rolls. The tray was a marked im- 
provement on the breakfast trays of Bayswater, 
and the girl’s enjoyment of the meal was only 
dampened by her doubt of what it was to cost. 
Out of the prepaid half of her first week’s salary 
merely a few coppers remained. She reflected, 
in munching, that she must be very economical. 
The day was Wednesday, and there would be 
difficulties on the Wednesday following if her 
food bill for the interval exceeded thirteen 
francs. 

After she had rung for some soap, and waited 
an hour or more for her brush and comb, the 
woman’s husband brought up the box. He said: 

Monsieur ees ’ere; ’e shall mount? ” 

‘‘Who is here?” she asked, relieved to find 
that somebody had now risen who was partially 
intelligible. 


35 


36 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

Monsieur Le Beau — from ze ’all; ’e desire 
to see mademoiselle.” 

‘"Oh!” she exclaimed. ‘'Til go down to 
him.” 

In the passage she saw the landlady, and 
gathered from her thumb that she would find the 
visitor in the dining-room. The dining-room 
was meagrely furnished; the visitor was rotund 
and middle-aged. His puffy cheeks were quite 
colourless, and his eyelids hung so low that the 
eyes themselves were scarcely visible. At the 
corners of his upper lip a few blond hairs were 
waxed into upward spikes. 

You are Meenie Weston, yes? ” he inquired. 

She said she was. I came by last night’s 
boat.” 

Mr. ’Ughes ’as writ me. We make a re- 
/zarsal for you at eleven o’clock. You spik 
French, mees? ” 

No,” she said, '' I’m sorry to say I don’t.” 

Ah, you learn vtrra soon; before you return 
you spik it just so good as I spik Eengleesh! 
You ’ave nevare before been in Paris, no? ” 

'' No, this is the first time.” 

Ah, you like it much! You come now, 
zen — zat will be best. You soon be ready, yes? 
I show ze way.” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 37 

No Other manager had ever called on her, and 
his presence inspired her with an agreeable flut- 
ter of importance. She ran upstairs and un- 
packed her portfolio, and put on her hat and 
jacket, realizing the emotions of a prima donna 
with impresarios trembling at her frown. 

‘'You ’ave brought photographies?’’ he 
asked, as they made their way up the street. 
“ Nice photographies of you in costume? I ’ang 
zem in ze ’all.” 

“ It is very good of you,” she replied, “ but I 
haven’t any photographs — I wish I had.” 

He rolled his head reprovingly. 

“ What songs you ’ave? ” he asked. “ Nice 
songs? ” 

“ Oh, I have plenty of songs here — all kinds! 
I can sing whatever you like.” 

“ Bien! I shall see — I shall ’ear zem at ze re- 
/mrsal! ” 

She was not long in discovering that he had 
an affection for the last word; it contained the 
only aspirate that he seemed to have mastered, 
and he was evidently vain of it. During their 
short walk along the boulevatd, Monsieur Le 
Beau referred several times to the “ re/mrsal,” 
and always pronounced it as boastfully as if it had 
been the name of a distinguished son. 


38 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

Most people who have stayed in Paris know 
that there exists there a peculiar and unpleasant 
tavern — bathed in blue light — where the cus- 
tomers are leceived by persons habited to resem- 
ble celestial beings. It is called '' le cabaret du 
Ciel.’’ There exists also an equally peculiar, 
though less offensive, establishment, where the 
lights blaze red, and the attendants, attired as 
devils, greet the visitor with the assurance that 
Satan is waiting for him. This is called le 
cabaret de L'Enfer.'’ One day it occurred to a 
man who passed that it would be a bright idea 
to intersert a concert-room, which should be 
called le cabaret de L’Homme/’ because it 
stood between Heaven ’’ and Hell.’’ 

The scheme was impracticable, but the desig- 
nation lingered in his mind. ‘‘ Cabaret de 
L’Homme ” was inscribed on the facade before 
which Monsieur Le Beau stopped. The girl, 
who had been realizing the sensations of a prima 
donna, stared at it blankly. A shop window had 
been thickly coated with red paint, and to the 
centre pane a strip of paper was fastened, headed 
Ce Soir. Beneath was a list of the singers’ names, 
apparently scrawled with a small brush dipped in 
ink. She saw that the upper half of the primi- 
tive advertisement was devoted to herself, and 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 39 

lest she should overlook it, Monsieur Le Beau 
pointed it out to her. 

You understand? ’’ he said, translating: 

‘“THIS EVENING 

MAD’MOISELLE MEENIE WESTON, 
Eengleesh Artiste, 

FOR ZE FIRST TIME IN FRANCE.’” 

She nodded, trying to conceal her disappoint- 
ment, and he opened the door. 

It was dark Inside. The room was low, and 
the paint on the window kept the light out. 
Momentarily she did not see much; she was only 
conscious of the atmosphere, rank with the stale 
fumes of cigarettes. As her sight adapted itself 
to the obscurity, she saw that cigarette ends lay 
everywhere; they littered the floor, and soaked 
in the beer-stained glasses which a sleepy-eyed 
waiter was collecting from the little tables. 

You allow smoking here? ’’ she faltered. 

But certainly; in France always! Qa ne 
fait rien — you sing just as good. Wait a beet! ’’ 

He disappeared, and left her to swallow her 
mortification. For an instant she wished with 
all her heart that she were back in London, criti- 
cal as her situation there had been. Even when 


40 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

she had told herself that any engagement was 
better than none, her dejection refused to yield 
to the argument. 

She sat on a frowzy velvet lounge against the 
wall, noting the sordidness of the scene — the 
semicircular bar; the disordered chairs by which 
the tables were meant to be surrounded; the 
small platform supporting a piano. So this was 
the concert-hall. Miss Joyce had not lost much! 
As yet her reflections went no further than that; 
it did not occur to her all at once that Mr. 
Hughes had deliberately misled her. 

In a few moments a swarthy woman with an 
enormous bust advanced. Meenie got up, and 
the woman said: 

Eh bien, ma chere! ’Ow you are? My 
’usband tell me you spik no French, no? Sit 
down, ma chere. ’E go to find ze pianist. You 
are tired after your travel, yes? ’’ 

No, Fm not very tired,” said Meenie; Fve 
been resting at the lodgings.” There was a 
pause. 

And since the manageress was so cordial, 
she thought she might as well seek advice on her 
threatened dilemma. Perhaps you could tell 
me what I ought to pay for meals there? ” she 
went on. I can’t go out — I mean I am bound 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 4I 

to have them all in the apartments — and I shall 
only have twenty-five francs next Wednesday to 
settk everything.” 

‘‘ ' Appartement? ’ ” said Madame Le Beau. 

You 'ave an appartement, ma chere? ” 

‘‘A room — a bedroom; Mr. Hughes recom- 
mended the place to me. The rent is moderate 
enough; but I have so little to manage with the 
first week.” 

’Ow much she charge you?” asked the 
woman. 

Twelve francs. Of course this is nothing 
to do with you; I oughtn’t to talk to you about 
it, but ” 

‘‘ (Ja ne fait rien,” said the other, shrugging 
her shoulders, I understand! Do not unquiet 
yourself. She know me verra well; if she not 
trust you, you say to ’er she is to come to me — 
I tell ’er it ees all right. And she ees verra good. 
You no find in ze quart ler an ’ouse more sheep 
as her. Ah, oui, oui, oui ” — she flapped her 
fingers soothingly. “ Do not unquiet yourself. 
Listen, ma chere: Your costume ees in ze 
dressing-room. When you ’ave sung, you put 
it on — you see if it fit you nice. C’est tres 
chic.” 

^ Costume ’? ” Meenie looked at her with 


42 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

big eyes. Do I sing in costume — there on 
that platform? I have my own dress.’’ 

‘‘ Eh bien, if you prefer it, ma chere. (^a ne 
fait rien! What ees it, your dress? ” 

The girl explained breathlessly. She had not 
been in the chorus long enough to wear bur- 
lesque attire on the stage without embarrass- 
ment, and the thought of donning it for a room 
terrified her. 

'‘Oh, but no!” exclaimed the manageress 
when she understood. " It must be costume — 
zat ees imperatif 1 But it ees not shocking — you 
will see, ma chere. You will like it quite 
much! ” 

Monsieur Le Beau returned now, with a bent 
old man who crept to the piano; and during the 
next hour Meenie sang selections from her reper- 
tory, while the waiter rinsed the glasses in a pail. 

It proved an irksome task. She learnt that 
her introductory song and her last must be 
lively, and the husband and wife shook their 
heads again and again. Their names were Isi- 
dore and Marie, she soon discovered; and after 
each refrain the man grimaced at Marie, or Marie 
pursed her thick lips at Isidore. Then they 
cried shrilly together, "Plus gai! Plus gai!” 
and the man added: " Ze programme ees tres 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT 0 ’ THE WINDOW 43 

important — it ees for zat raison we make a re- 
/larsal! ” 

The pianist only addressed her once; he spoke 
in French, and she could not understand what 
he said. He accompanied so well that it start- 
led her to see his face; what was left of his mind 
seemed far away. She wondered what he was 
thinking of while he played. The stare in his 
sunken eyes made her fancy that he looked 
through the music, and the cabaret, into a time 
when he, too, had known his hopes. “ Plus gai! 
Plus gai!” came the cry; his expression never 
changed. Automatically he turned the next 
sheet that she passed to him; like an automa- 
ton’s the wasted fingers worked the gayer tune; 
and so he sat there, a human wreck, recalling 
God knows what. 

Allerseelen had been accepted for her second 
turn without discussion, but when The Fair 
Fakir had contributed her third, there was still 
the question what she should sing first. Eventu- 
ally she bethought herself of a ditty called The 
Mermaid and the Tar, and she was thankful as 
she sang it to see Monsieur Le Beau’s bald crown 
swaying complacently to the air. 

When she stopped, he signified his approval 
of this, and it was settled that she should make 


44 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

her bow to Le Cabaret de L’Homme with The 
Mermaid and the Tar. The manageress patted 
her on the arm. 

‘‘ Sharming, ma chere! Les etudiants — ze 
Eengleesh and ze Americains — will be much 
pleased! Mon dieu, zey will be epates! Elle 
est piquante, n'est ce pas, Isidore? Come 
now, ma chere, and I show you ze pretty cos- 
tume.” 

She led Meenie to a dressing-room not much 
larger than a cupboard, and little more luxurious. 
A narrow shelf was strewn with some old copies 
of Gil Bias, and on these the costume was ex- 
posed to view. The girl took it, and turned pale. 
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth for a 
moment, but she faced the woman steadily: 

I can't wear that, Madame Le Beau,” she 

said. 

“Comment?” exclaimed the woman with a 
start. 

“ I can't wear it. I wouldn't put it on! ” 
Madame Le Beau could storm, in spite of 
her suave tone — the capability was advertised on 
her face — and Meenie waited for a tempest now. 
To her surprise the cloud passed; the frown that 
had caught the heavy brows relaxed. 

“ You not like it? You find it not modeste? 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 45 

Verra well, ma ehere! All right — you shall ’ave 
anozzer! ” 

The answer was so unexpected that the girl 
strove to palliate her refusal. 

“ You see what it is! ” she said deprecatingly. 
“ I couldn’t really! ” 

“ No, no, no, ma deere — what you pliz! If 
you not like it, we go to ze costumier — you shall 
shoose for yourself. You ’ave time, ees it not? 
We go togezzer to La Rue de Provence.” 

Not many a manageress would have been 
equally submissive — even in the circumstances; 
and Meenie’s gratitude was tempered by the fear 
that the man’s deportment would surprise her 
less. When they rejoined him, however, and he 
heard where they were going, he did not appear 
to demur. With a little natural vanity she began 
to feel that her abilities had rendered them eager 
to conciliate her. Her yes brightened, and for 
a minute her mean surroundings brightened also. 

Outside, in the sunshine, Madame Le Beau 
looked commoner still, she thought. Indeed, the 
gross Frenchwoman and the paP-faced girl, 
whose wondering glances proclaimed her a 
stranger, made as ill-assorted a pair as the city 
could show, as they descended from Montmartre. 
More than once a head was turned cynically to 
4 


46 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

gaze after them; a lounger at one of the cafes 
they passed smiled to his companion with an 
expressive shrug. 

In La Rue de Provence, at a wardrobe deal- , 
er’s where Madame Le Beau was evidently on 
intimate terms, they examined the stock. Afraid 
of pressing her objections too far, Meenie was at 
last forced to declare herself content with a bur- 
lesque costume of pale blue satin. The material 
was creased and the trimmings were tarnished, 
but she saw that the skirt would reach her knees, 
and that its trail of pink roses could be utilized 
to heighten the corsage. How much was paid 
she did not hear. 

The parcel was awkward to carry, and she was 
glad when she arrived at Madame Montjou's 
door. There the manageress parted from her, 
reminding her to be at the cabaret at nine 
o’clock. Montjou, who admitted her, inquired 
if she would like dejeuner. Though ‘‘ dejeuner ” 
signified ‘‘ breakfast ” to her mind, she was too 
hungry to argue about a name. She said, ‘‘We! 
we! ” and at an untidy table, by which she per- 
ceived that some other lodgers had already 
lunched, she was served with soup and stew. 

Upstairs the parcel was untied, and she put 
the costume on. She found that she must alter 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 47 

it; SO she unlocked her trunk again, and felt for 
the night-light box that held her needles and 
cotton. Fantastically attired, and with an in- 
tense expression, she twisted herself before the 
mirror, considering her mode of attack. She 
frowned deeply, and seemed to perpend the fate 
of empires. Presently the crisis passed, and her 
brow cleared; she had resolved to take in the 
bodice an inch each side, and to put two pleats in 
the band of the skirt. 

After the alterations had been successfully 
accomplished, she took out the white shoes and 
stockings that she had meant to wear with her 
own frock. She had nothing further to do ex- 
cept to wrap the things up. Therefore she lay 
down on the bed to think. 

She was roused by her landlord’s voice in- 
forming her that dinner was ready, and awoke to 
a dark room. She learnt to her surprise that it 
was past six. Her appetite at present made no 
demand on her purse, but as a meal might be 
unobtainable later, she supposed she would be 
wise here to eat when she was bidden. 

Two melancholy gas-jets were now lighted 
above the dirty cloth, and she found that she was 
to dine in company. At the table sat four 
women in dressing-gowns; another — a pock- 


4 


48 WHEN LOVE ELIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

marked blonde, with her hair in curling pins — 
was clothed in a loosely buttoned ulster, expos- 
ing a bare neck. The study afforded by these 
five glutting women, with their sluggish gaze, 
their flaccid mouths, and their red and check 
wrappers, was one of abandoned brutalism. It 
was difficult to realize that they had thoughts, 
or vanity, or sex; it was appallingly difficult to 
feel that their actions had any psychological im- 
portance. Among themselves there was no dis- 
guise; their natures were unfettered with their 
forms. Pretences were for the platforms where 
they sang; their provocations would be put on 
with the paint. Here the squalor was uncovered 
— and one saw the depths. 

The dressing-jacket of the chorus girl, in 
which she loves to loll in her lodging till theatre 
time, was a familiar sight to Meenie; the specta- 
cle presented by this salle-a-mangcr was new and 
horrifying, and she registered a vow to escape 
frorn Madame Montjou’s as quickly as she could. 

She escaped from the salle-a-manger after ten 
minutes, and mounted the black staircase again. 
The bedroom was cold and dreary, though to 
brighten it as much as possible she lighted both 
the candles. She intended to leave for the cab- 
aret early, lest she should mistake the route, 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 49 

but it would have been useless to start so soon, 
and the time seemed very long to her. By turns 
she sat watching the restless flicker of the can- 
dles in the draught, and walked to and fro be- 
tween the bed and the wash-hand stand, to keep 
herself warm. Through the panes of the high 
window the rattle of Paris stirred her with the 
knowledge of where she was; and she recalled 
with a shiver the days of her ambition, when she 
had pictured herself arriving in Paris. She had 
always succeeded before sli£ came here in her 
dreams. The attic was to have been luxury at 
the Grand Hotel; and a brougham should have 
been outside to drive her to the Opera House. 
She remembered that once she had even thrilled 
with excitement in imagining hardships as an 
artiste. The hope deferred, the fireless room, 
the meagre salary — they had their fascination in 
biographies; a few chapters more, and one could 
be confident of salvoes of applause. Who would 
fail to be brave for half a volume? Yes, in her 
girlhood even the prevision of a scene like this — 
the mere knowledge that she had the right to 
call herself a professional — would have warmed 
her blood. How bleak the reality was! She 
looked inward, and tried to recapture the lost 
emotions; but it was quite in vain. 


50 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

By-and-bye a clock struck eight, and she 
made ready to depart. The parcel under her 
arm, she left the house, and turned toward the 
lamps that lit the boulevard. A few yards past 
the corner she recognised the name over a cafe, 
and hurried on — guided by the landmarks that 
she had noted in the morning — until the door of 
the cabaret was reached. 


CHAPTER V 


A GLIMPSE of the serried audience, the jin- 
gle of glasses, and the roar of a refrain. She 
passed hastily to the dressing-room. In the 
dressing-room she was alone. Through the par- 
tition everything could still be heard distinctly — 
the song and the piano, then the hubbub and the 
battering of hands. 

The floor was bare excepting for a ragged 
door-mat; the single chair had a torn seat. She 
had often been nervous, but never till now had 
she known the nausea of nervousness. The ab- 
sence of a dresser added to her distress, and the 
hooks and eyes in her shaking fingers evaded one 
another so persistently that she was afraid she 
would not be ready in time. 

At last, when the costume was fastened, she 
sank on to the torn seat again, and waited, ac- 
cording to orders, till she was called. Since she 
entered, three vocalists had been announced, 
and nobody had disturbed her; she wondered 

51 


52 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

what had become of them, and concluded that 
there must be a second dressing-room which she 
hadn’t seen. Smitten by the sick fear that she 
would forget the words she had to sing, she sat 
reciting them under her breath. With her 
clasped hands, and her lips moving mutely, she 
looked as if she was in prayer. 

Now another turn finished. The babel broke 
out once more, and she listened dizzily to catch 
what followed. Monsieur Le Beau’s voice rose 
out of the din: Mesdames et messieurs, j’ai 
I’honneur de vous annoncer que Mad’moiselle 
Meenie Weston — ” Her name struck a blow 
on her heart, and the rest was lost. She sprang 
up and moved toward the door with tremulous 
knees. It had already opened; she saw beyond 
it through a mist. The cabaret was a blur of 
faces. As the shrunken pianist rattled the in- 
troductory bars, she dropped her gaze to the 
platform to steady herself. Since there were no 
footlights, she had neither darkened her lashes 
nor rouged her cheeks; her pallor and the timid- 
ity of her pose made her an unusual figure. The 
nqte came, and she began: 


A sailor went to Kiralfy's fair. 

And fell in love with a side-show there : 
A mermaid flaunting her amber hair — 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 53 


She was labelled an * Illusion/ 

Her lips were red, and her glance was gay — 

He longed to kneel at her feet all day ; 

But mermaids come, as I needn’t say. 

To a different conclusion. 

Entirely false conclusion ! 

To see it turned him pale. 

He marked, with agitation. 

The lady’s termination. 

Oh, the painful termination of the Tail ! 

There was a general murmur, and some tepid 
encouragement, though few there understood 
what she was singing about. Her self-command 
was creeping back to her, and the scene had 
grown clearer; through the smoke that curled 
to her nostrils and her mouth she could distin- 
guish features now. Suddenly, with a little 
gasp of consternation, she perceived why none 
of the women had returned to the dressing- 
room; she saw them, tawdry and tinselled, 
among the crowd, drinking at the tables. The 
note came: 

“ Before her tank, with enamoured sighs, 

The tar looked long in the mermaid’s eyes ; 

Her feeling first was a cold surprise. 

Then mer-maidenly confusion. ' 

She learnt to find his devotion dear. 

And evVy day he would reappear; 

He felt he’d part with a hemisphere 
For to wed that fair ' Illusion.* 


54 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

“ That golden-haired ‘ Illusion ’ ! 

She filled his honest life. 

Old joys were dust and ashes ; 

He shunned his former ‘ mashes,’ 

And he pined to win the mermaid for his wife.” 

She observed one of the men put his arm 
round a singer's neck. The woman took a whiff 
of his cigarette, and smiled. In the alcove of 
bottles the manageress was regarding them im- 
passively. A terror that had no affinity to stage 
fright gripped the girl, and the room swam in 
hot haze. She resolved not to step here; she 
would demand to be released! Almost at the 
same instant she recollected that she would for- 
feit the homeward fare, and asked herself, dis- 
mayed, how she could return. But she wouldn't 
stop; no, whatever happened, she wouldn't stop! 
The note came: 

‘‘ Then once she crept to his startled view ; 

She’d shed her tail — and her tresses too. 

Her hair was false, but her heart was true. 

And anticipation thrilled her. 

O fatal day ! but he called her ‘ plain,’ 

And never came to the tank again ! 

She watched for seventeen years in vain — 

Then her wounded feelings killed her. 

‘‘ That poor ‘ Illusion’s ’ fate — Love — 

A warning should extend : 

When man’s infatuated, 

To keep him fascinated — 

Why, remain a fair Illusion to the end ! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 55 

The plaudits had an ironic sound to her ears 
as she left the platform and hurried to the se- 
clusion of the dressing-room. The thought of 
completing her program appalled her, and in 
a frightened way she considered the practicabil- 
ity of repudiating her agreement at once. She 
suspected Mr. Hughes's good faith now, and 
nursed her courage to declare that she had been 
induced to sign the contract by false pretences. 
If the fare to England were unobtainable in the 
circumstances — , Always at this point her cogi- 
tations stumbled lamely. If the fare were unob- 
tainable, what should she do? 

“ A fair old frisky, 

Put-away-the-whisky, 

Good old time we had ! ” 

Another English turn was in progress. After 
what she had seen, she understood that solitude 
would not be permitted her for long; yet it was 
with a shock that she heard the handle jerked. 
Madame Le Beau's bulk filled the doorway. 
With her evening black, and her watch chain, 
and the little sticky curls flattened on her tem- 
ples, she had acquired a more masterful air. 
Even her bosom seemed to domineer now, and 
bulged authoritatively. 

'' Why you stay 'ere? " she said, as Meenie 


56 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

rose. It ees ze ’abit of ze artistes to seet at ze 
tables. You find it also more gay! Go in, ma 
chere! ’’ 

“ I want to speak to you, Madame Le Beau,’^ 
said Meenie. 

‘‘ You speak presently; now you go in! And 
you make yourself agreeable; and you say you 
’ave thirst — you find always some one to pay. 
It ees necessary ’ere, where we charge nozzing 
for ze admission, zat ze people drink plenty, you 
understand? Ze more you drink, ze better I like 
your voice. And you can ’ave ’unger. Make 
’aste!” ^ 

I must speak now!- I want you to release 
me, please. Fm not willing to fulfil the engage- 
ment.” 

‘‘Comment? You are not ‘weeling’?” 
The amazement was a trifle overdone; she fold- 
ed her arms with a large gesture. “ What you 
mean? ” 

“ I didn’t know what kind of engagement it 
was. Mr. Hughes never told me — he told me 
it was for concerts. I don’t know whether he 
deceived me on purpose or not, but I hadn’t the 
least idea what I was coming to. I’ve never 
been in a place like this. I couldn’t stay in it — 
you must let me go.” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW $7 

‘‘ 'Oo you zink you talk to? cried the woman 
angrily. ‘‘A place Mike zis’? What 'ave you 
to say about ze place? It ees a respectable place, 
ees it not? You 'ave sign an agreement, ees it 
not? You do your business, and ’old your 
tongue, or you get in trouble.” 

I ask you to let me off,” muttered Meenie. 
You zink you take my money for nozzing, 
yes? You must be a fool! ” 

I will send you the money as soon as I earn 
it — I swear I will! You must know that I 
oughtn’t to have come! you must see that there 
has been a mistake! O Madame Le Beau, you 
won’t be so wicked as to keep me here? ” 

Assez, assez, assez! ” She pointed peremp- 
torily to the door. ‘‘ You are a girl who always 
refuses, yes? Zis morning you refuse ze cos- 
tume — zis evening you refuse to remain. Lis- 
ten! ” Her voice rose violently. You are ze 
servant ’ere, you understand? You ’ave sign 
an agreement, and you do what you are told, 
or I show you ze law. You go in and you seet 
at a table; and when ze gentlemen speak to you, 
you say ‘ Payez-moi un bock, yes? ’ And you 
drink it quick ! Chut ! You go ! ” 

“I won’t,” said Meenie, trembling. ‘‘You 
may make me sing, but you can’t make me do 


58 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

that. I won’t go in till it’s time for my next 
song.” 

There was a sickening instant in which she 
thought she was going to receive a blow, but the 
fat arm fell again. For a few seconds the woman 
stood lowering at her. Then, with a shrug, she 
said: 

Alors, you sing! And you make no more 
disturbance — because you ’ave no right; you ’ave 
nozzing to say. You understand, ma belle 
demoiselle? You ’ave nozzing to say! I ’ave 
ze law — eef you disobey me you shall be punish. 
Pah!” She snapped her fingers in the girl’s 
face, and left her to realize the position. 

The girl’s first step toward doing so was to 
burst into tears. Being a sensible girl, though 
she was an inexperienced one, she dried them 
very soon, and decided to take the only course 
that was open to her now — namely, to break her 
contract as soon as she had the means to reach 
London. 

She knew the sum she required; her ticket 
had cost eighteen and seven-pence, and she de- 
termined that the surplus from her second week’s 
salary should amount to as much as that, if she 
had to live on milk and rolls in the meanwhile. 
She must resign herself to remaining for a fort- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW $9 

night. She formed her plans deliberately. Next 
Wednesday, when Madame Montjou presented 
the bill, she would give her a week’s notice; it 
would not be wise to tell her that she was leav- 
ing Paris — she would merely say that she was 
leaving the house. Then on the evening when 
she was paid fifty francs she would walk out of 
the cabaret for the last time. When her deser- 
tion was discovered, she would be in England. 

It was quite simple. The only blots on the 
scheme that she could see were the enforced de- 
lay and the parsimony that she must practise in 
order to save the money. The latter defect she 
faced cheerfully, and the former she told her- 
self she must bear as best she could. At all 
events, since she had gained her point, and was 
to be allowed the privilege of withdrawing be- 
tween her turns, the worst feature of the engage- 
ment was averted. She recovered her compo- 
sure in view of this definite prospect of escape, 
and when she was recalled to the plaform she 
entered more firmly. 

She was greeted by a buzz and prolonged 
stares. She had sung too ill to attribute them 
to pleasurable anticipation, and she understood 
that her retirement had been noticed, and com- 
mented on. At the end of Allerseelen, however. 


6o WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 


there was spontaneous applause, and a knot of 
men wearing strange hats and masses of un- 
kempt hair demanded its repetition. Their 
cry was taken up, and the manager, lifting his 
heavy eyelids to her, nodded his head. 

So by command of the crowd she sang Aller- 
seelen again, and now rendered it as well as she 
was able. She was not a great singer, but her 
voice was the purest and by far the best-trained 
that had ever been heard between the smutched 
walls. And she had the artiste’s temperament; 
approbation was meat and drink to her, even 
though it was the approbation of an audience 
she despised. This time she forgot the incon- 
gruity of a blue satin costume and pink roses to 
the lyric, and saw the grave that she was singing 
of. The absinthiated mind of the dreamer at 
the piano awoke and responded to the rare call 
of an impassioned voice, and he, too, did his best; 
he, too, saw a grave — where lay all the ambition, 
and the opportunities, and the worthiness that 
he had left behind. 

She was a success. Madame Le Beau her- 
self regarded her with less disfavour as she 
passed, and when she came back for the song 
from The Fair Fakir she was welcomed as a 
favourite. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 6l 


It was nearly one o’clock when she was ready 
to leave, and she feared that, in spite of her little 
triumph, she would now be subjected to intimi- 
dation from the woman and her husband to- 
gether. To her relief, they watched her go by 
without hindering her; the man even favoured 
her with a listless wave of the hand. Somebody 
among a group of loungers on the pavement ad- 
dressed her as she went out, and followed for a 
few yards, she thought. That was nothing; that 
was only as if she had been leaving a stage door 
again in England. When she had toiled up the 
stairs, and turned the key, the room on the fourth 
floor looked a haven of rest to her. But she re- 
proached herself for selfishness in wishing that 
she had Miss Joyce’s companionship and counsel. 


5 


CHAPTER VI 


Faithful to her project, she commenced 
next day a regimen which permitted no misgiv- 
ings. In London she could have ventured upon 
considerably better fare with the means at her 
disposal, but in Paris, and in new lodgings, she 
did not know to what extent she might be 
cheated. She elected, therefore, to allow a wide 
margin for dishonesty, and to reduce her meals 
to the slenderest proportions. 

The afternoon was fine, and she was tempted 
to explore Paris, which was an unwise proceed- 
ing, because it gave her an appetite. Her wan- 
derings, however, brought her to the grands 
boulevards and the Place de la Concorde, and 
this, her real introduction to Paris, so enraptured 
her that she promised herself a similar excursion 
daily. The cabaret held no developments. 
Madame Le Beau eyed her glumly, and the man- 
ager, fingering his tiny mustache, accorded her 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 63 

a slow, surreptitious smile. As before, she sang, 
and saw, and wished herself away; as before, she 
reached home tired and disgusted. Two even- 
ings over! '' she murmured, as she got into bed. 

In any other circumstances than those which 
were responsible for her resolve she would have 
reflected that it was better to bear the ills she had 
than fly to those which awaited her return. As 
it was, she couldn’t hesitate. On any night the 
exemption granted her might be rescinded; 
sooner or later, her common sense told her, it 
was sure to be. She recalled with increased as- 
tonishment Madame Le Beau’s compliance in 
the matter of the costume. It was extraordinary 
that she had been so meek, the woman who could 
be so brutal a few hours later! Perhaps she had 
been drinking in the interval, and grown morose? 
But the question was insoluble, and the girl 
abandoned it. 

On Friday she discovered the gardens of the 
Tuileries, and sauntered there till dusk began to 
gather. When she made her way back, the 
lamps were shining, and the allurement of the 
restaurants stabbed her with familiar pangs. She 
was pursuing a line of action which few men 
would have had the fortitude to sustain, for it 
entailed inconveniences that she had overlooked 


64 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

— one of them keener to her than semi-starva- 
tion; it necessitated her exposing herself to the 
curiosity and contempt of the asthmatic crone 
and Montjou. Many people starve in Paris, as 
elsewhere; but here was an eccentric — an Eng- 
lishwoman with a salary, and credit, who was too 
mean to eat meat! Ten francs in her pocket 
would have spared her this indignity: she could 
have appeased her hunger outside; moneyless, 
she was forced to exhibit her economy, and to 
endure their astonishment. 

An additional embarrassment lay in the fact 
that the man’s acquaintance with English had 
proved to be hardly more extensive than her own 
knowledge of Erench. She could neither offer 
an excuse for not descending to the dining-room, 
nor order what she wished upstairs. Sometimes, 
indeed, since he had found that the table dlwte 
was not to profit by her presence, she thought 
that he affected to understand even less than he 
could. 

She was living principally upon eggs and 
soup, lunching and dining in view of the red- 
draped bed, which was never made until she had 
gone to the cabaret. Her avoidance of the 
salle-d-mangcr kept her aloof from the women 
whom she had shuddered at on her first even- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 65 

ing, but her observations from the platform had 
shown her that two of them were her fellow- 
singers. She wondered if it was one of these 
who bawled the English words that she could 
hear from the dressing-room. 

As she was passing to it after her second song 
on Friday night, a man plucked at her skirt, 
holding up a glass, and saying something at 
which his neighbours burst out laughing. She 
saw that the two women seemed to enjoy her 
discomfiture more than anybody else, and they 
continued to laugh shrilly after she had drawn 
herself free. In about half an hour one of them 
joined her; it was the first time that any of the 
'' artistes had entered the dressing-room while 
she was there. 

The woman dusted her face with a powder- 
puff before the cracked looking-glass under the 
gas-burner; and having cast one or two sidelong 
glances at the girl, said thickly: 

‘‘ How is it you ain’t with your royal mother 
at Windsor, my dear? Won’t she ’ave you? ” 
She was the blonde who had worn the brown 
ulster and the curling pins. Under her make-up 
the pock-marks were scarcely visible. 

'' What? ” said Meenie. 

’Ow are all the other princesses? Did you 


66 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


leave ’em quite well? I feel proud to powder my 
nose in your ’Ighness’s company. I hope your 
’Ighness don’t object?” 

To this delicate badinage the girl returned 
no answer; and the woman, crossing her hands 
over her breast, and casting her eyes down, sim- 
pered: 

‘‘ Don’t look at me — I’m so shy! ” The next 
moment she abandoned derision for abuse with 
savage swiftness. “ ’Oo are you? ” she de- 
manded. ‘‘ You’re putting on a good deal o’ side, 
ain’t you? ’Oo are yon, sitting here by yourself 
as if you was a star? Gordstrewth! You’re too 
big a swell to obey rules, I suppose? ’Oo are 
yon, to do as you like, eh? ” 

‘‘ I’m not doing as I like,” said Meenie, or 
I shouldn’t be here listening to you.” 

What’s good enough for one is good 
enough for all, ain’t it? Why should madam 
favour you? Airs and graces make me sick, 
djear? There’s no side about me. Don’t think 
I envy you, sitting in this hole by yourself — you 
must be a precious fool. What gives me the 
needle is differences being made. Differences 
make me sick. Djear? Fair’s fair.” 

'' I was told to sit in there, and I refused to 
do it. Unless I’m dragged in, I won't do it! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 6/ 

“Refused to do it?” echoed the woman. 
“ Refused madam? Did you? ” The statement 
appeared to mollify her. “ Well, you’ve got 
a bit of pluck for all you look so soft ! I like you. 
. . . It isn’t often I tike a fancy to a girl, but I 
like you. And ain’t we both English, among this 
beastly lot o’ French frogs? ” She was suddenly 
affectionate. “ The minute I clapped eyes on 
you I knew we was going to be pals. You stick 
to it, my dear, and don’t let ’er bully you. She’ll 
try! Oh, I know ’er — she’ll try! And she’s up 
to all manner o’ dodges for driving the girls in. 
I don’t interfere — what’s it to do with me? — but 
I like you. 1 never said a word to ’urt your feel- 
ings, did I, my dear, whatever the others may 
’ave done? A lot o’ toads! ’Ave another 
drink, my dear! ” 

Meenie got up and moved about the little 
room restlessly, longing for her to go, but so far 
from taking the hint, she took the vacant chair. 

“ Ain’t we both English, you and me? ” she 
repeated. “ And that’s what I said when they 
run you down. ‘ She’s English, like me,’ I said, 
‘ and no one says a word against ’er in my ’earing. 
Britons never shall be slives,’ I said, ‘ madam or 
no madam! ’ It’s more’n three years since I saw 
the good old Strand, my dear; Lord knows ’ow 


68 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

long it’ll be before I see it again! Lord knows! 
I often think of it, I can tell you — these ’ere 
bocks are no earthly! London’s my ’ome — I 
was brought up in London, I was! I ain’t kid- 
ding you — I was brought up in London; my 
mother ’ad a ’ouse in Stamford Street! And 
a good mother, too — nobody says a word against 
mother in my ’earing — a good, open-’earted 
woman. If it ’adn’t ’a’ been for the drink, she’d 
never ’ave got in trouble, and I wouldn’t have 
took to the stige. Ah, life’s a ’ell of a job — a ’ell 
of a job! . . . Don’t mind me, my dear — I’ve 
got the ’ump to-night; meeting a friend — Eng- 
lish, like me — it upsets me, and everything’s so 
sad!” She rested her head on the shelf and 
wept. 

Presently she roused herself with a start, and 
after a hasty application of the powder-puf¥, re- 
turned to her duties. Meenie was disturbed no 
more. These incidents were the only new fea- 
tures of Friday night. Before she fell asleep, 
she said, ‘‘Three evenings over!” and thanked 
God. 

On Sunday morning she went to service at 
Notre Dame, arriving there by means of a suc- 
cession of humiliating little duologues which she 
strove vainly to curtail. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 69 

‘'Pardon! Oil est Notre Dame, s’il vous 
plait? ’’ 

“ Comment? 

“ Notre Dame?’’ 

“ Comment? ” 

“ Notre Dame? ” 

“ Ah-h ! Notre Dame! ” 

On Sunday evening she sang as usual at the 
cabaret. Monday was a red-letter day to her, 
for it marked another week — the following night 
her salary would be due. Her routine was nearly 
always the same. The late breakfast, the basin 
of soup, and then the ramble about the city, to 
linger on the bridges, wondering at the bright- 
ness of the Seine, to lose herself in strange by- 
ways, and emerge into new scenes of splendour. 
She stood on the steps of the Opera House, and 
marvelled at the audacity of her girlish hopes; 
she stumbled on unexpected market-places, 
where Paris burst suddenly into flower; she was 
fascinated by the dignity of surprising stalls, 
where old volumes in their hundreds aired their 
decrepitude in the sunshine of the quay. 

Her salary was not forthcoming on Tuesday 
night, but with Wednesday came her bill. She 
opened it confidently — it was to be the certificate 
of perseverance, her reward for many sternly re- 


70 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

pressed temptations. When she had deciphered 
the total, her first idea was that she must be mak- 
ing a mistake. She scrutinized the figures again. 
Was it possible — it couldn't be possible — that 
they meant thirty-nine francs, and something 
over? The warmth began to leave her cheeks, 
and she could feel her heart beating. 

It was no use deceiving herself! Her bill 
was more than fourteen francs in excess of the 
sum due to her. But how could it be? She 
puzzled over the items. The smallest was a word 
beginning with an "‘S'-; that cost one franc. At 
last she made the word out to be ‘‘ Savon " — she 
knew that ‘‘ savon " meant ‘‘ soap." Soap, ten- 
pence! Why strain her eyes over the hiero- 
glyphics any more? After '‘soap, tenpence " 
anything was possible — even candles costing a 
half-crown. 

She lay back on the pillow faintly. Then, in 
spite of all her self-denial, there wouldn't be suffi- 
cient surplus from her salary next week to take 
her home! Sufficient? She realized an instant 
later that there wouldn't be any. Assuming that 
the next week's bill was the same as this one, 
she would still be in her landlady's debt. Her 
plan was ruined, crushed. 

She felt too sick to attempt a remonstrance 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O^ THE WINDOW /I 

with the brute downstairs yet; she was glad to 
remind herself that it was no use trying to say 
anything until Madame Le Beau had paid her. 
Besides, how could she talk to him? No, she 
must submit to the inevitable. All at once her 
prospect of escape from the Cabaret de 
L’Homme was vague. 

But thrift had been easier to practise than was 
philosophy. The check was bitter. She ques- 
tioned, bewildered, how much these people 
would have had the brazenness to charge her if 
she had indulged in ordinary fare. The Grand 
Hotel would have been cheaper then, perhaps? 
Or perhaps they would have boarded her for 
no more than they had charged her now? The 
last reflection shook her painfully; it might be 
that she could have had enough to eat for the 
same money. 

When she rose, she saw that the day was wet. 
By-and-bye the man, Montjou, brought in her 
soup, and put down the tray with the indefinable 
insolence of manner which she always strove to 
persuade herself existed only in her fancy. When 
she had lunched she sat at the window, gazing at 
the blur of rain till egg time. 

The hours were very dreary; her experience 
of loneliness in lodgings held no more dismal 


72 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

picture. With the extinction of courage, her 
outlook had been plunged in gloom, and she was 
a prey to the mood in which one questions what 
justification one has for hoping for anything. 
Hope? Her father had been hopeful almost to 
the last. While he hoped, his life policy had 
lapsed; the practice had declined and died while 
he hoped; hope deluded him until all chance of 
finding a purchaser or a partner had been lost. 
She remembered that in a rare burst of bitter- 
ness he had once said to her: ‘‘ My life has been 
passed in hoping, and I've never reached one of 
the things I hoped for. Hope is incipient hallu- 
cination — in the next stage one believes oneself 
to be Isaac Newton or Julius Caesar, and has to 
be put under restraint.’’ 

For herself, what? When she entered on her 
first engagement she had still expected to attain 
something better; not Isolde — she had been 
awakened from that dream — but light parts of 
distinction. Now it seemed to her that a voice 
was the last qualification necessary on the comic- 
opera stage. She had been in the chorus with 
women who could not sing a note; she had met 
women who had left the Academy or the Guild- 
hall to conquer London, and they, too, were in 
the chorus, their medals preserved, but their con- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 73 

ficlence long lost. With interest to provide her 
with a chance, she would have emerged from the 
ruck, and made some little reputation, she 
thought; without it, she would belong to this 
heterogeneous crowd for life. A unit among the 
ambitious and the apathetic, the gifted and the 
incompetent, the refined and the vulgar, the vir- 
tuous and the immoral — the chorus — that was 
her lot! Never to scramble any higher; to count 
herself blessed when a tour lasted six months; to 
be like a girl she had known in the Stratford pan- 
tomime, who lived in Camberwell, and reached 
Liverpool Street every night after the last 'bus 
had gone. It was a long walk — she got home 
about half past two. And three mornings in the 
week she had to be back in time for the matinee; 
during the evening performance she could 
scarcely squeeze her feet into her spangled shoes, 
and used to come off after the processions and 
cry. Her name was forgotten. What did it 
matter? Legion! 

At nine o'clock the cabaret once more! The 
scowl of the sensual woman, the leer of the sen- 
sual man; the artistes " — how did they find that 
word! — in their tawdry satins; the unintelligible 
shouts, the rattle of glasses, and the hot, dense 
fumes of tobacco. All this through hopeless 


74 VVHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

eyes, all this while her mind reiterated that her 
plan was spoilt. 

Her salary was not sent in to her. Before 
she left she lingered at the bar, and asked for it. 
The cabaret was nearly empty; Isidore and Marie 
bent their heads together at the till. 

Could you let me have my salary? ’’ she 
murmured. 

Le Beau flicked the ash from his cigarette, 
and lounged away. The woman stared at her 
silently. 

She repeated: ‘‘ My salary — the twenty-five 
francs? '' 

‘‘ Your salary? What you mean? I do not 
understand.'’ 

'' You don't understand?" 

'' But no; 'ow your salary? I pay for ze 
costume a 'undred and fifty francs. ‘Enfin, 
when you 'ave earnt so much, you ask for 
salary." 

‘^You're going to charge me for the cos- 
tume?." stammered Meenie. 

What you zink — you zink I buy it you for 
love? Allez-vous-en; I'm busy! " 

‘‘ Madame Le Beau, I must have my money! 
I've my bill to pay; I haven't a penny; I can't go 
on without money. I've never had to pay for a 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 75 

costume in any engagement Fve been in; it isn't 
usual — the thing is unheard of! " 

Madame Le Beau lifted her fat shoulders al- 
most to her ears. 

It ees ze rule 'ere! Eef a girl ees not con- 
tent to wear ze costume I offer — alors, she pay 
for anozzer! She ees a fool, but zat ees all." 

‘‘ I see," said Meenie slowly. “ I see now." 
Her desperation drove her to a last appeal. 
‘‘ Then draw a little off the salary each week. If 
you stop the whole of it, I shall starve! " 

Zat ees not my affair; I owe you nozzing. 
You owe to me! And you need not starve! . . . 
I 'ave told you 'ow to get refraichissements at ze 
tables — but you would not. Aha! . . . Zink 
it over, ma chere; you see I 'ave advise you for 
ze best." 

She nodded triumphantly, and turned her 
back. After a moment the girl passed out. 


CHAPTER VII 


Well? . . . What was going to happen? 
She was liable to be turned out of her lodging at 
a moment’s notice. She entered the house, 
quaking with the thought that a settlement 
might be demanded of her in the passage. This 
did not occur, however; nobody saw her come 
in. She had been furnished with a key by now, 
and she stole up the stairs on tiptoe. 

What was going to happen? She sat asking 
herself the question in a kind of stupor. She 
asked herself why she should continue to en- 
dure the cabaret since she was to receive no pay- 
ment; but the answer was that Madame Le Beau 
could, summon her if she didn’t. How long 
would these people wait? At the most, another 
week, she supposed. And then? She would 
have no money then; it would be three weeks be- 
fore she had any! What was to become of her 
when their patience was exhausted? She must 
76 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 7/ 

move, and live on credit again! But would they 
let her take her trunk? 

If she gave the Le Beau couple cause for 
summoning her, her dilemma would be revealed 
to a magistrate — it would be the best thing she 
could do. But their action was indefensible — 
they would be afraid to summon her! . . . Then 
she need not go back to the cabaret after all? 
Ah, but if she defied them, they would inform 
Madame Montjou, and Madame Montjou would 
turn her adrift at once! To retain the engage- 
ment was the only way to retain a shelter. 

Two of the women had slammed their doors 
already. By-and-bye the stairs creaked again, 
and she knew that another had come home. 
There was seldom much sleep to be had between 
the hours of one and three, and she was often 
disturbed by the sound of voices which she did 
not hear during the day; but to-night the house 
was quieter than usual. The steps drew near, 
and paused. Her heart, heavy with the thought 
of her bill, sank suddenly, and she wished that 
she had blown the candles out. There was a 
knock, and the handle rattled. 

‘‘Who’s that?” she exclaimed. 

“ Me! It’s all right,” said a voice she re- 
membered. “ Let me in.” 


6 


78 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

‘‘ What do you want? Fm in bed/' This 
wasn't true. 

‘‘ I want to speak to you; I saw the light, so 
I knew you was awake." 

Come in the morning — Fm very tired." 

Come on, don't be a fool — open the door! 
I want to speak to you." 

She crossed the room irresolutely and turned 
the key, and put her head out. 

It's all right," repeated the pock-marked 
blonde; '' Fm not drunk. I thought I'd give 
you a look-up. I was there when you was talk- 
ing to madam. She wouldn't part, would she? " 

No," said Meenie. 

I knew she wouldn't — I could 'ave told you 
that before." She came in, uninvited, and sat 
down. The stairs 'ave winded me," she mur- 
mured, '' but I thought I'd give you a look-up. 
You've got the 'ump, eh? Wish you was dead? 
I dare say you think it's got nothing to do with 
me, one way or the other, but I felt sorry for you 
— that's all about it. It's no kid; I mean it. I 
talked a lot o' rot the other night — I'd had a 
tiddley or two — but Fm sober now, and if I 
could 'elp — lie\p you, I would! That's square 
talk, ain't it? You can believe it, or not, but it’s 
square. Look 'ere, if you've got a friend in Lon- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 7g 

don, you write to 'im! Tell ’im ’e must get you 
out of this if 'e pawns his ticker! . . . That’s 
square, too, ain’t it? You may do as you like; 
but you can’t sye it ain’t square? ” 

‘‘ I haven’t a friend,” said Meenie. I’m 
sure you mean well. I’d get out of it to-mor- 
row if I could, but I can’t. I don’t know what 
I’m going to do. I can’t go away, and I can’t 
pay my bill.” 

‘‘ Why, of course you can’t pye your bill,” 
said the visitor. That’s ’ow they manage it. 
A girl ’oo can’t pye ’er bill can’t hold out. You 
see, my dear! And a nice bill it is. I’ll bet! ’Ow 
much? ” 

‘‘ Thirty-nine francs — and I’ve been stinting 
myself all the week, so as to save enough to get 
back with it! ” 

I began to guess that, when you never 
came down. First, when I ’eard your voice, I 
thought you’d got special terms — that was what 
put my monkey up — but I soon found out. Lor’, 
I’ve seen ’em before you — seen ’em in ’Avre — 
Havre — lots of ’em! There was one poor girl — 
well, never mind that ! Madam works the racket 
with these ’ere Montjous; they pile up the bill, 
and she fines the girl, and stops her salary. And 
what’s a poor devil to do then? That’s the long 


8o WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


and the short of it, my dear. You wouldn’t wear 
the costume she showed you. I know all about 
it now; that costume trick’s as old as the three- 
card fike! If you’d worn the costume, she’d ’ave 
stopped your money because you wouldn’t obey 
rules. You can be precious sure she’d ’ave 
stopped it somehow.” 

‘‘ But does she pay nobody — doesn’t she pay 

your ” 

‘‘ Oh, me? ” returned the other. ‘‘ Oh, y-e-s. 
. . . But you see I’m one of them as didn’t mind 
the rules, my dear. They made no odds to me\ ” 

There was a short silence. She found a ci- 
garette in her pocket, and lit it in the candle 
flame and sat puffing vigorously. 

It was kind of you to come up,” said 
Meenie. 

“ ’Tain’t done you no good.” 

It’s something to know that some one is 
sorry for you.” 

"" Yes, I’ve told you I’m sorry. . . . What do 
you mean to do? ” 

I can’t think. What would you do in my 
place? ” 

Gord! ” said the pock-marked blonde. The 
question seemed to bewilder her. I can’t think 
neither — I never was! ” After a minute she 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 8 1 


added with decision: “ I should ’ave chough to 
eat anyhow if I was you — as well be ’ung for a 
sheep as a lamb! ” 

“ Yes, I shall have enough to eat — if they let 
me stop.” 

“ Oh, they’ll let you stop for a bit; they knew 
you wouldn’t get your money this week as well 
as madam did. They’ll take good care to col- 
lar it the moment you do! ” 

“ But even when she pays me — their bills are 
so high!” 

“ You needn’t be afride of them losing any- 
thing by you — don’t you fret about that ! How 
long ’ave you signed for — two months? ” 

“ Three.” 

“Ah!” She relapsed into silence. 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ Me? Oh, they won’t lose anything by you, 
that’s all! . . . Don’t you worry about them 
cutting up rough yet; they’re sife to trust you 
when you’re booked for three months! I shall 
go to bed now. Keep your spirits up! It’ll be 
all the sime in a ’undred years ! ” 

“ Good-night,” said Meenie. 

“ ’Night. . . . That’s true, what you said 
just now? ” 

“ What?” 


82 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


‘‘ About your not 'aving a friend? ’’ 

‘‘ Quite true.” 

‘‘ Because if you've only split with 'im, just 
you tike my advice, and mike it up. Never mind 
what 'e did — mike it up, and tell 'im 'e must get 
you out of this, if 'e pawns 'is ticker! 'Night.'' 

‘‘ Good-night.'' 

“ /'ll pye for the stamp, if you're stony. 
Don't forget.” 

‘‘ I sha'n't forget, but I've nobody to write 

to.” 

‘‘Oh, well!” She lingered at the door re- 
gretfully, and then found comfort in the phrase 
that comprised her philosophy: “ It'll be all the 
sime in a 'undred years! ” she said again. 




CHAPTER VIII 


Relieved from the dread of Montjou clam- 
ouring for payment, Meenie was able to behold 
him with composure on the morrow. The 
knowledge of the full measure of his rascality 
was alleviating. She made no reference to her 
bill; since he understood the circumstances, she 
was spared the necessity for proffering excuses. 
But the conversation had made it clear to her 
that, on one pretext or another, the manageress 
would withhold the salary until she had forced 
her to submit to the abominable rules; so even 
when the costume had been paid for, she couldn’t 
expect any money — she couldn’t expect any till 
she yielded. She was dizzy; she groped in the 
dark on unfamiliar ground. Strain her eyes as 
she might, she could not see a step ahead. She 
told Montjou that in future she would take her 
meals in the dining-room. He said, ‘‘Bien!” 
She preferred the company of the women in their 

83 


84 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

dressing-gowns to being hungry any longer. 
Pressure tells. 

Madame Le Beau threw her an inquiring 
glance, as if to ascertain her frame of mind, when 
she entered the cabaret that evening. When 
she quitted it she received a scowl. The same 
the next night. On Saturday, on the Boulevard 
Clichy, she met her manager. She bowed, and 
instinctively quickened her pace, but he halted 
promptly, and she was obliged to stop. His 
greeting signified comprehension, and even sym- 
pathy. 

‘‘ Ah, mees, ees it not verra fine a day? ’’ he 
said. You take your promenade, yes? ’’ 

‘‘ Yes,’’ she said, ‘‘ I’m going for my walk.” 

Ze fine weather ees good to make forget, 
eh? I, also, I find it so. I ’ave always perceived 
zat eef I ’ave trouble, and I walk in ze sunshine, 
ze ’eart grow light. Ees it not? Wiz me nevare 
it fail! In Nature zere ees somezing magique! ” 

He turned beside her, and she wondered how 
he had the audacity to allude to her trouble. He 
seemed, however, quite unconscious of audacity. 

'' In London,” he said, pursuing his amiable 
topic with a wave of his cigarette, quite ze con- 
traire. I was for five year in London. Oh, 
mon Dieu! Ze dark ’ouses, ze black streets, ze 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 85 

solemn, solemn people in a ’urry! You pardon 
me, mademoiselle, zat I say so? But in London 
nevare my ’eart grow light when I promenade — 
it grow ’eavy, ’eavy! Eef I put on my ^at ’appy, 
I come ’ome to weep.” 

There is Nature in London, too,^’ she said, 
smiling. 

‘‘ Ah, oui, but zere ees so little art ! And zere 
ees so little gaite, zere ees so little gas! You 
must feel ze difference? It ees not possible to 
sing as you sing, mademoiselle, wizout a soul; 
to a woman or a man wiz a soul London ees 
epouvantable! Non, non, non, I make no com- 
pliments! You ’ave in ze voice ze tears, ze ’opes, 
ze sentiment; I remark it at ze reharsaL When 
I listen to you, I forget ze cafe, Vraiment! It 
’urt me verra much that you are not content ’ere. 
Already I ’ave spoke to my wife, but you ’ave 
irritate ’er. I find it difficult to arrange.” > 
You have spoken to her about me? ” said 
the girl eagerly; “ asking her to pay me, do you 
mean? Oh, Monsieur Le Beau, if she only 
would! If she’d only give me enough to pay my 
bill, and my fare back! ” 

^‘You wish so much to go back?” he in- 
quired. ‘‘Yes, it ees natural. You not like ze 
place — and it ecs not refined for you! You un- 


86 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


derstand well zat when you were engaged I 
knew nozzing. I would not ’ave allowed zat 
you came 'ere. You were a success in London? " 

‘‘ Oh, no — far from it! " 

“ But eef you return, what will you do? 
Wizout money you find ze dark London no para- 
dise, eh? " 

“ No," she admitted, ‘‘ I sha'n't find London 
a paradise, but, O Monsieur Le Beau, you 
must know what my situation is! I am being 
cheated at my lodgings — I can't complain, and I 
can't pay; presently they'll turn me out! Ma- 
dame Le Beau says she is keeping back my salary 
to cover the expense of the costume she bought 
for me, but it isn't for that — it is to make me like 
the other women; while I refuse, she will never 
give it to me! What's to be the end? When the 
Montjous are tired of waiting, what's to become 
of me? You say you're sorry I'm not content 
here; you're the manager; I was engaged to 
come to you — I hadn't even heard of Madame 
Le Beau till I arrived. If you mean what you 
say, treat me fairly. Cancel my agreement, and 
send me home." 

If I was alone in ze business/' he said, ‘‘ you 
would not 'ave 'ad to ask. But my wife — " 
He waved the cigarette again. It ees not so 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 8/ 

easy as it appear to you. All ze same, I can save 
you much, and — I may do all.’’ 

‘‘Thank you,” she answered perfunctorily; 
she could not feel that she had begged him to do 
anything arduous. 

“ Ze fact ees,” he went on, “ she would com- 
plain much to lose you; you can see zat we ’ave 
no one zat compare wiz you. Not only your 
voice — your face, your figure, your grace! Al- 
ready you are an attraction at ze cabaret.” 

“ Then why can’t she be satisfied if I sing? I 
don’t grumble about that! If she’ll give me my 
salary every week, and let me keep the dressing- 
room, I’ll stop for the three months willingly.” 

“ You ’ave irritate ’er,” he murmured. “ I 
shall talk to ’er again; in me you ’ave a friend. 
You ’ave known zat, yes? ” 

“ N-no,” she said. 

“ I admire you like I ’ave nevare admired. 
. . . Zat ees true. You ’ave not seen? ” 

“ Seen?” 

“ Tell me.” 

“ I’m glad my voice was good enough,” she 
stammered. 

“ Oh, your voice! If you ’ad no voice, still I 
should admire. Listen well: ze time will come 
when all Paris will admire! And one day your 


88 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


voice will be — ah, la voix d'une sirene! Only 
one zing it want yet — you ’ave not love! When 
you 'ave been taught to love, you will give to it 
ze touch magique zat shall make you celebrate/' 
She stood still, and forced a little laugh. I 
hope your good wishes will come true. When 
I'm celebrated I shall remember them." She 
tendered her finger tips. “ I'm taking you out 
of your way." 

Eef I do all you want," the man questioned 
slowly, you will be grateful to me, yes? " 

‘‘ I should thank you and Madame Le Beau 
very much." She drew her hand free. 

The languid eyelids fell, and he gave the 
faintest shrug. ‘‘Adieu, mad'moiselle," he said. 


CHAPTER IX 


The Montjou couple proved less patient 
than had been predicted. A few days later the 
man entered Meenie's room and demanded the 
sum due to him. She could not understand 
many of his words, but his voice and gestures 
were significant enough as he slapped the bill and 
shouted at her. Conjecturing that the blonde 
was in bed, and that she spoke a little French, 
Meenie ran downstairs and beat at her door, 
Montjou following excitedly. 

‘‘ They want their money — he^s making a 
row! ’’ she explained. I caiiT talk to him. Tell 
him they shall have it as soon as I get it; tell 
him it's not my fault! " 

The blonde appeared on the landing in her 
ulster. Her French was weak, but her tone was 
vigorous; she put her arms akimbo: 

'' What's all this? " she exclaimed. '' What 
are you bullying the girl for? Don't try these 

89 


90 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

games on here — they won’t wash. When sTie’s 
paid she’ll pay you] you must jolly well wait! ” 

‘‘ Wait? ” He flourished the bill again. Is 
it reasonable that we should board and lodge her 
for nothing? That can not be! We have been 
patient, we have waited too long; we are not to 
be swindled. Mad’moiselle has been receiving a 
salary ever since she arrived, and she eats and 
drinks, and pays nothing.” 

Are you trying to kid me? Mad’moiselle 
has not received her salary — she hasn’t had a sou 
— and you know very well she hasn’t! If you 
want your money, tell your pals at the show to 
part; then you’ll be all right.” 

I have nothing to do with the show; I have 
nothing to do with the affairs of mad’moiselle. 
Here is the bill — I want my money.” 

She hasn’t got any.” 

‘'Then I keep her here no more! You un- 
derstand? ” He turned to Meenie: “ You must 
go. I keep your box, and you go. I give you 
two more days; if you have not paid in two days, 
it is finished.” 

“ What does he say? ” said Meenie. 

“ He says if you don’t pay in two days, he’ll 
keep your box, and you must go.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” said the man in English. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 9I 

“ Two days. You ’a ve ’card? Two days! ” And 
he returned to the basement muttering. 

“ Come inside,” said the blonde. “ Well, 
you’ll ’ave to give in! ” 

Meenie was very white. “ I shall go round to 
Madame Le Beau and tell her what he says.” 

“ What’s the good of that, you fool? She’s 
put him up to sye it! ” 

“ I must try. It can’t do any harm.” 

“ You’ll be wasting your breath. The best 
thing you can do is to sit at one of the taibles to- 
night. When all’s said and done, what’s the use 
of fussing? You see ’ow it is; as well do it first as 
last!” 

The girl shook her head. Though she wasn’t 
hopeful, she would not neglect a chance; she was 
determined to make a forlorn attempt to secure 
fair play. She hurried through the streets, ques- 
tioning whether she should plead or threaten. 
She reflected that her threats would probably be 
laughed at, for even if she weren’t friendless, her 
charges would be very difficult to substantiate. 
She had signed the contract, and she had insisted 
on another costume being provided for her. 
Who could prove that she had not known she 
Avas to pay for it? No, it would be futile to 
threaten. Ostensibly the manageress was justi- 


92 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

fied in withholding the salary at present; and as 
to the Montjous’ claim, she was no more respon- 
sible for her singers’ debts in their apartments 
than for their debts at a jeweller’s. The only 
plan was to plead. 

Since their conversation on the boulevard 
Monsieur Le Beau had wholly ignored her; but 
he greeted her this morning with a faint smile. 
She told him that she wanted to see his wife, and 
he did not remain to witness the interview. 

It lasted only a short time. It was not an 
angry interview — such little anger as was dis- 
played was on the side of the girl. The woman 
talked quite calmly. The position, she repeated, 
was lamentable, nobody could regret it more 
than she did — it always pained her to see a girl 
standing in her own light. Her tone at this mo- 
ment was truly motherly. If ‘‘ Mees Weston” 
would obey the rules, an endeavour should be 
made to pacify the people at her lodgings until 
she was able to settle their account; if she con- 
tinued to be obstinate, she could not expect the 
manageress to perform friendly services. 

‘‘ I ’ave ask you to take your place wiz ze 
ozzers — and to be amiable to ze customers, bien 
entendu! Ees it ‘ yes,’ or ' no ’? ” 

''No,” said Meenie, crying;"! — I can’t!” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 93 

Nothing more was said; but in the evening, when 
she left the platform after her first song, she 
found the dressing-room door locked. ' 

For an instant she thought it had stuck, and 
she pushed with all her force; in the next, she 
realized what had been done, and stood staring at 
it blankly. Perhaps she stood so, with her hand 
on the knob, for ten seconds; estimated by her 
emotions it was a long time. 

She turned from the door and went back to 
the crowd, and sat where she saw an empty chair. 
The only person who had shown her kindness 
here was bellowing a comic song, and she prayed 
that when it was finished this woman without as- 
pirates and without virtue would come to her 
side. Across the room their gaze met. Somebody 
spoke to her, but she made no answer. When 
she glanced toward the counter she saw that 
Madame Le Beau was watching her. The man 
at her elbow spoke again; she looked to see if she 
could change her seat, but there was none vacant, 
or, in her confusion, she could perceive none. 

* A fair old frisky, 

Put-away-the-whisky, 

Good old time we had ! ’” 

The singer stepped from the platform amid 
whistles and cheers. A party of American stu- 
7 


94 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

dents broke into the refrain as she neared them; 
she swept a mock courtesy, and flung a piece 
of slang to them over her shoulder, but she didn't 
stop. She sauntered to Meenie. 

''What's up?" she asked as softly as her 
voice permitted. 

" They've locked the door." 

" Come and sit by me, then." 

Untroubled by bashfulness, she found space 
promptly enough on a lounge; and until she 
began to bandy chaff with the men about them 
her presence was fortifying. Within her limits 
she sympathized; she sympathized, not with her 
reason, but her instinct; and instinct urged her 
to spare the girl all that she understood her to 
tremble at. That any girl could tremble at the 
idea of talking to strangers across a table, how- 
ever, and imbibing beer at their expense was 
beyond her comprehension. " Drink," she kept 
whispering. "Go on! What do you say 'no' 
for? Well, you are a queer one; I never did! " 

An Englishman, who had strolled into the 
Cabaret de L'Homme for no other purpose than 
to hear Meenie sing Allerseelen again, thought 
her reluctance queer, too. It was his habit to 
observe, and he was watching her curiously; he 
had been watching her ever since she came back. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 9$ 

and sat down. When one of the group rose and 
went out, he dropped into his place. 

“ Are you going to sing As Once in May to- 
night? ” he said, leaning forward. 

She started; and the man told himself that he 
had really stumbled on a singular study. 

“ Yes,” she faltered. 

“ I’m glad of that. You sing it well.” 

She was silent. 

“ What are you doing in a hole like this? ” 

“ I’m engaged here.” 

“ So I see. Why? Couldn’t you do any- 
thing better? ” 

No,” she said. 

“ Don’t you want me to talk to you? ” 

“ I’d rather you didn’t.” 

“ You prefer the company of the ruffians on 
the other side of you? ” 

“ I would rather not talk to any one.” 

“ All right,” he said, “ just as you please.” 
And he relit his pipe, and settled himself com- 
fortably. 

More than half an hour passed before he ad- 
dressed her again, and then there was a good 
reason for it. 

“ Would you like to change seats with me? ” 
he inquired. 


96 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

She accepted the suggestion with alacrity. 

Thank you very much/’ she murmured. 

‘‘ Perhaps you would be wise to let me talk 
to you, after all,” he said. “ It appears to l^e ne- 
cessary that you should lend an unwilling ear to 
me or the other fellow, and I should probably 
annoy you less.” 

I am much obliged to you for giving me 
your seat.” 

You needn’t be. To be candid, I’ve been 
waiting for the chance — I saw it was bound to 
come. Is our fair compatriot swallowing her 
ninth bock a friend of yours? ” 

“ She has been very kind to me.” 

“ Really? Would it be inquisitive to ask 
how? ” 

‘‘ In several ways.” 

How long have you been singing here? ” * 

‘‘ Two or three weeks.” 

“ I only heapd you last night. You disap- 
peared between your songs last night.” 

Yes, I was in the dressing-room.” 

Why aren’t you there now? ” 

‘‘ Because I can’t get in.” 

How do you mean? ” 

It is locked.” 

‘‘Locked! Who locked it?” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 97 

“ The management.” 

“Is that a fact?” he said with anima- 
tion. “That’s very stimulating! Do tell me 
more! You’ve no idea how useful these details 
may be to me some day. The management 
— meaning the woman with a figure like a 
feather bed — locked the door. Ah! I sup- 
pose to — No, on second thoughts, you shall 
explain! ” 

“ People usually lock a door to prevent other 
people going in,” she answered curtly. 

“Now that’s brilliant!” he said. “I didn’t 
suspect you shone in repartee. So they do! 
And whom did the Fat Lady want to prevent 
going in? ” 

“ Me.” 

“ You are fascinating, but monosyllabic. 
Please thaw. I assume she had a motive.” 

“ She wished me to be here.” 

“ And you declined to accord her that natural 
pleasure? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he said. “In 
your place I should have been equally ungra- 
cious; but I should also have been more prudent. 
What did you come here at all for? ” 

“ I didn’t know what it was like.” 


98 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

‘‘ Couldn’t the siren consenting to bock 
number ten have told you? ” 

‘‘ She? I never saw her till I came. I came 
from England.” ^ 

'' Oh, I understand. You came from Eng- 
land; and now that you’re in Rome — Precisely. 
Why don’t you go back? ” 

‘‘ I can’t ; they wouldn’t let me off, and ” 

And what?” 

I can’t.” 

The man swept her with a glance. He was 
old enough to be near believing everything that 
she implied, but he had not outlived scepticism 
of his youth entirely. 

‘‘ I’m sorry for you,” he said; I can imagine 
what it must be for a girl to have to submit to 
the attentions of any brute with a franc in his 
pocket. When you’ve finished, we must wash 
the taste of the place out of our mouths with 
some champagne. We’ll go to Marguery’s — or 
to any restaurant you’ve a fancy for — and have 
supper.” 

'' Oh, no, thank you,” she said. 

You won’t? ” 

She shook her head. The result of his exper- 
iment surprised him most agreeably. 

“ Please yourself,” he said again. ‘‘ Halloo, 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 99 

it’s your turn! I’ll keep your seat for you till you 
come back.” 

He had intended to leave as soon as the song 
was over, but when she returned he didn’t rise; 
he remained until the dressing-room door had 
yielded, and he had seen her pass out on to the 
boulevard. As he sauntered homeward he re- 
flected — as he had been reflecting at intervals 
throughout the evening — that the experiences 
of an innocent girl who found herself in one of 
these cabarets would be interesting to hear; he 
wished Miss Meenie Weston h^d been more 
communicative — she might have given him a lot 
of information. He wished more than all that 
he could make up his mind about her. He was 
baffled. His judgment reproached him that he 
hadn’t advised her to break her agreement, and 
given her the money to take her back to Lon- 
don; but it is difficult to credit the unlikely, and 
even while he regretted the omission, he said he 
was an ass. Still he regretted it. 

It occurred to him that the outlay of a sover- 
eign — he thought in English — would at least 
settle the doubts that were piquing him. He 
had often given a penny to a child imploring 
bread, and watched him pass the next baker’s 
shop with total unconcern. On the same prin- 
. 0 : 


lOO WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


ciple he might test the sincerity of Miss Weston 
with a pound. He had no superfluity of pounds, 
but as a student of character he would obtain 
value for the money. 

It was not, however, with any definite pur- 
pose that he walked up to the Cabaret de 
L’Homme on the following night. He told him- 
self on the way that he was going to be disap- 
pointed; the girl would be a different being — 
girls were so often different the second time one 
met them — or he would not get a chance to talk 
to her. 

In the moment of entering he did not see her. 
The jingling piano, the noisy room, confused him 
a little; the consciousness of his interest, and the 
waiter's recognition, made him a little shy. That 
he might select a desirable seat in the least con- 
spicuous fashion, he paused at the counter and 
asked for a packet of cigarettes, while his gaze 
travelled round the faces. Then he moved across 
to her. 

Good-evening," he said, shifting a chair, 
and wondering if anybody was smiling at him. 
'' So once more the door is locked? " 

She gave him a half glance. Good-even- 
ing." 

Have you sung yet? " 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW lOI 


“ Yes; twice.” 

“ 1 was coming in earlier,” he said, “ but then 
I began to ask myself if I should come at all.” 
After a few seconds he added; “ I meant you to 
say “ Why did you? ” 

But she said nothing. 

“ Don’t you want to know why? ” 

“ It doesn’t matter.” 

“ Then I must tell you. I came to talk to 
you again, if you will let me.” 

“ You know very well I can’t help it,” she an- 
swered. 

“ Pardon me ; you have only to say I’m a 
nuisance. I assure you that if you’d rather I left 
you alone, I won’t speak another word.” 

Her mouth twitched, and she looked at the 
ground. 

“ If it isn’t you,” she said bitterly, “ it must 
be somebody else. What’s the difference!” 

“ Between me and any other cad, eh? Well, 
Miss Weston, I won’t be a cad; perhaps I may 
even be useful. I swear I don’t mean any harm 
to you, and if you think my advice worth having, 
you’ve only to ask for it.” 

“ Thank you,” she murmured. “ I’m afraid 
nobody can advise me.” 

“ There’s one thing I can advise right off,” he 


102 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


said. Take a glass of wine, because the Fat 
Lady is scowling at us. It appears to me that if 
I drink by myself, she is likely to introduce you 
to somebody more gallant.’’ 

I would rather not,” said Meenie. 

‘‘ Very well,” he said. ‘‘ You understand why 
I proposed it, though? ” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, I know.” 

You say that as if she had commented on 
your abstemiousness already.” 

‘‘ When I came in, she — she complained that 
last night ” 

Are you frightened of her? ” 

‘‘ I think I am. I wasn’t at first, but — I’ve 
been through enough to make me frightened.” 

Do tell me.” 

It’s a long story; I dare say you can guess 
something of it. I thought I was going to sing 
at concerts, at a kind of — at a kind of second- 
rate Steinway Hall. I knew it wouldn’t be fash- 
ionable, of course, because I’m nobody, but I 
never dreamt of a place like this.” 

‘‘ But when you arrived? ” 

'' I was engaged then; how could I leave? 

And then she stopped my salary, and ” 

‘‘ Do you mean you aren’t being paid? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t need money,” she said, hot 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW IO3 

with the sudden fear that he might think she was 
appealing for assistance. I mean that — well, I 
couldn’t go away if I had the fare; I’m under 
contract.” 

The man muttered something disrespectful 
to contracts. If she stopped your salary, how 
do you live? ” 

I’m in apartments.” 

Do the people trust you? ” 

‘‘ Y-e-s,” she said; '' you see, they know her.” 
The recommendation isn’t obvious. I’m 
immensely sorry for you! I think I said so yes- 
terday, but now I mean it much more. I’m 
going to help you.” 

She caught her breath. 

I’m going to help you. I’ll be d-dashed if 
you shall stop in a den like this ! Look here, you 
must take some money! ” 

‘‘That’s impossible,” she said; “you must 
know it is.” 

“ I don’t know anything of the kind. Don’t 
you believe I mean well to you? ” 

“ It isn’t a question of my believing in you. 
If I were willing to take money from any man I 
met, I shouldn’t be worth helping.” 

“ 1,^0 you believe in me? ” he persisted. 
“ Tell me the truth: do you or don’t you? ” 


104 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

I don't know," she stammered. 

There was a slight pause. 

‘‘ Aye, that's the rub! " said the man at last. 
‘‘ Naturally you don't. You would be a fool if 
you did — or else gifted with phenomenal percep- 
tion. Well, my child, I sha'n't ask for your con- 
fidence — I'm going to pack you straight back to 
England. How much do you want to take you 
away? I mean it; I'm going to give it to you. 
It's a frank offer — give me a frank answer. You 
shall have what you want before you leave the 
table; and' then we'll say ‘good-night' and 
‘ good-bye '! " 

She sat quivering. Her need of the money 
was desperate, and her instinct told her that it 
could be taken safely. She argued that she 
might repay it — that it would be merely a loan — 
but she was a chorus girl only, inasmuch as she 
had been two years in the chorus, acceptance 
was horribly difficult to her. 

“ I can't," she gulped, before she knew that 
she was going to refuse. 

“ You had better think twice," he said. “ Of 
course, I appreciate your feelings, but I'm quite 
sure you are being very unwise, and that you'll 
repent it." 

She was already fearing the same thing; if it 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW IO5 

had not been so hard to say she would have 
owned it. While she hesitated, she saw that 
Madame Le Beau was beckoning to her. He 
saw it, too, and he thought the English girl’s 
submission to that peremptory signal as ugly a 
sight as his experience had provided. 

From his chair he could observe what fol- 
lowed perfectly. She appea^-ed to be given some 
instructions, and to demur. The woman insisted. 
In a few seconds they were joined by the man- 
ager, and the girl was led to a table near the 
entrance, where two young men were drinking 
champagne. Champagne seldom flowed here — 
evidently customers to be conciliated! The man, 
who was watching, began to gnaw his mustache, 
and he lit a cigarette with a hand that shook a 
little. His hands always shook when he was 
angry; it was a constitutional defect to which he 
objected very much, because it often conveyed 
the impression that he was afraid. 

He saw her decline the glass that was pressed 
upon her. Her companions expostulated freely. 
Their voices were indistinguishable — drowned 
by the piano and the general hum — he did not 
know if they were speaking French or English, 
but it was clear they were intoxicated, and that 
the girl was painfully confused. Only he and the 


Io6 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

couple in authority were attending to the scene, 
and he noted their impatient gestures as she 
shook her head. 

Suddenly — his gaze had scarcely reverted to 
her when it happened — she was wrestling in an 
embrace; she sprang to her feet with a half cry, 
and her employers were at her side, upbraiding, 
gesticulating, commanding her compliance. He 
leapt up and strode toward her, no longer con- 
sidering whether he made himself conspicuous or 
not. 

Mademoiselle, vous etes vraiment trop 
prude. Ze gentlemen mean you no ’arm! e’ 

Mais c’est idiot! exclaimed the manager- 
ess. “ J’en di assez a la fin. Voyons! 

Go and put on your things, ’’ he said, firmly; 
‘‘ you’re coming out of this hole now, and you 
aren’t coming back again.” He turned to Le 
Beau. You tallow-faced scoundrel, give her 
the key, or I’ll break your blasted neck! ” 

‘‘Mais, m’sieu, m’sieu, m’sieu!” screamed 
the woman. 

The singer stopped, and the audience, start- 
ing from their places, listened eagerly. Those 
who were unable to obtain a view across the 
heads and hats jumped on to the tables and the 
chairs. The only spectators who displayed no in- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 10/ 

terest in the disturbance were the two who had 
caused it. After a stare of dismay, they con- 
tinued to sip their champagne with drunken so- 
lemnity. 

Meenie had clutched the man’s arm. He saw 
that their best plan was to gain the street while 
the proprietors stood confident in the possession 
of her clothes. 

“Quick!” he whispered; “come as you 
are!” 

But Le Beau anticipated the manoeuvre, and 
darted forward. 

“ J’ai son contrat, m’sieu,” he exclaimed, 
“ son contrat signe! ” 

“ Will you let me pass? ” 

“ Pas moyen, m’sieu, pas moyen! ” 

The pallid fat face with its air of defiance ex- 
asperated the man hugely; besides he was in 
haste. He took the shortest course without a 
moment’s hesitation, and flung the door open as 
Le Beau sprawled on the floor. 


CHAPTER X 

“ Can you run? ” he asked, as their feet 
touched the pavement; “we’d better disappear 
as fast as we can; I don’t see a cab.” 

She was afraid she couldn’t run, but she kept 
pace with him for a few yards as best she could, 
though her heart was pounding furiously and 
her legs felt strangely unreliable. A thin stream 
of masqueraders from the Moulin Rouge trickled 
along the boulevard, and he dodged across the 
road with her into their midst, where she cut less 
remarkable a figure. In the Place Pigalle a cab 
had just deposited a fare. He hailed it promptly; 
and as she sank inside, it occurred to him for the 
first time that he didn’t know where to take her. 

“Rue de I’Arcade!” he said, and as they 
rattled down the slope, he turned and looked at 
her. 

“ I’m afraid you must be awfully cold? ” 

“ No,” she panted, “ I’m not a bit.” She was 
loS 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW IO9 

out of breath, excitement glowed in her cheeks, 
and her eyes shone through the dusk, wide with 
gratitude. 

He laughed. It has been rather amusing! 
You were a good little girl to do just as I told 
you. If you hadn't, we should have been there 
now. I say, how much do these people know 
your landlady? Will they send round to her to- 
night? " 

‘‘ I don't think so," she faltered. 

Suppose they do — on the off chance of 
your being there? I think I must take charge of 
you till the morning." 

She shivered, and the hands lying in the satin 
lap were restless. 

‘‘ You are cold? " he said, bending to her. 

No," she said huskily. . . . I would 
rather go back to the lodgings, thank you; I can 
stay there till to-morrow." 

'' How can you be sure now? " 

'' They told me so," she murmured. 

They told you that you could stay there till 
to-morrow? ... Do you mean that to-morrow 
you had to clear out anyhow? " 

“ Yes," she owned, ‘‘ if I couldn't pay." 

‘‘You poor little soul! No, no — I take it 

back. Without any wish to wound your feel- 
8 


no WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

ings, you’re a dear little fool! You don’t deserve 
to be pitied; I sternly refuse to pity you. You 
must have been an idiot to say ' No ’ to the 
money I offered you. How could you do it? ” 

‘‘ I think I was going to say ‘ Yes ’ after all,” 
she said diffidently. 

Mitigating circumstances; but never call 
yourself a sensible woman when you grow up — 
there are follies one can’t outlive. And, after 
this, you propose to try to sleep there again, do 
you? Good Lord! Look here, I’m staying at an 
hotel; I’ll have a talk to the manageress, and she 
shall find you a room for to-night. After break- 
fast I’ll get your belongings for you, and in the 
evening you shall depart for the white cliffs of 
Albion by the ‘ cheap and picturesque route.’ 
LIow does that suit you? Are your troubles 
over? ” 

She put out her hand, and smiled up at him 
with tears in her eyes. 

'' .1 shall never forget your goodness to me 
as long as I live! ” 

Oh, rot!” he replied, less fluent because 
he was touched. Give me the address, and tell 
me as exactly as you can how much you owe.” 
Lie pencilled the information on his shirt 
cuff, and, as they entered La Rue de I’Arcade, 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW III 


shouted to the driver where to stop. You had 
better wait in the cab a minute,” he said as it 
jerked to a stand-still. ‘‘ Til come out for you 
as soon as Tve explained things. I sha’n't be 
long.” 

He was longer than he had expected, for the 
manageress had retired for the night, and he was 
left to contemplate the staircase while the po/ter 
went to summon her. When she descended, it 
was necessary to apologize for disturbing her re- 
pose — only the exigencies of the situation had 
emboldened him to commit such an atrocity. 
Outside was a girl, a young lady, a compatriot 
whose ignorance of the world had placed her in 
a most dangerous position. She was homeless, 
and still attired in the somewhat exiguous cos- 
tume in which she had been — ex — as a matter of 
fact, rescued! He began to feel like the hero of 
a novelette. If Madame Lahille would have the 
kindness 

Madame Lahille overflowed with sympathy. 
Alas, such dangers were met with only too often 
in Paris! In London no doubt the same? It 
was unfortunate that a poor girl seldom found a 
protector so chivalrous. The lament was em- 
phasized by a gesture of pious admiration, and he 
reflected that it only remained for Miss Meenie 


1 12 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

Weston to call him ''my preserver” to make 
him ashamed of the whole episode. 

However, this exchange of civilities was oc- 
cupying precious time, and the girl remained 
with a bare neck in the cab while an east wind 
was blowing. 

' Madame can place a room at her disposal? ” 
he inquired. 

Yes, madame had, by singular good luck, 
a vacant room on the fifth floor. 

And a cloak to conceal the costume? The 
young lady would naturally be reluctant ” 

She departed in quest of the cloak, and when 
it was forthcoming he brought Meenie into the 
hall. Madame Lahille herself conducted her up- 
stairs, rejoining her, after about ten minutes, 
with a glass of steaming claret and a night-dress 
which was much too large. Clothed in the capa- 
cious garment, the girl sat up in bed, sipping the 
hot wine, and thinking of the man whose name 
she did not know. She wanted to cry, though it 
was now her happiest night in Paris. And then, 
as the wine stole through her veins, and the 
strange high bed grew friendly, her emotions 
yielded to a sense of delicious quietude. She did 
not question what London held for her,* her con- 
tentment was too deep for that. She was free! 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT; O’ THE WINDOW II3 

The consciousness was a lullaby. '' Are your 
troubles over? he had said. Oh, he had been 
good to her, good! She would make him tell her 
precisely what she had cost him, and directly she 
had saved it she would send the money back. It 
would be lovely to write that letter! She blew 
out the candle, and wondered who he was, and 
what he did, and if he could afford to lend her the 
money; he didn’t look rich, he only looked clever, 
and strong, and nice. How hard he could hit! 
She wondered whether she would ever meet him 
again in England, and while she wondered she 
fell asleep. 

Fortunately the room was not in the front of 
the house, or she would not have slept for long. 
She came back from dreamland to receive a mes- 
sage from him in the broken English of the 
chambermaid. The monsieur had said that 
mad’moiselle’s baggage would arrive within an 
hour. As soon as it came it should be brought 
up to mademoiselle, and then monsieur would 
await her in the salon. 

Sunshine lit the room gaily, and the choco- 
late and petits pains were better than at the 
Montjous’. It was pleasant to nestle so; she 
abandoned herself to the delight of knowing that 
for once responsibility had been lifted from her 


1 14 WHEN LOVE FLIE;3 OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


shoulders; the sensation was exquisitely new to 
her. She had not been able to fold her hands in 
confidence since her mother died. She could 
have said with Dumas His: “ My father was a 
child that I had when I was young.'’ 

A slow smile dimpled her face as the heavy 
ascent of the porter reached her ears. He had no 
sooner closed the door than she sprang out of 
bed, and made the best toilet that the contents of 
her trunk permitted. She had hidden the cos- 
tume in the wardrobe, and now she took it down 
and stuffed it in the box. She needed badly the 
things that had been left at the cabaret, espe- 
cially the jacket, and would have much liked to 
effect an exchange. It must be chronicled that 
she lingered before the glass rather longer than 
was her custom, and although her vanity was not 
above the average, she put on a crepon blouse, 
instead of a warm one, because it suited her 
better. 

The monsieur greeted her in the salon, faith- 
ful to his word; she was glad that she had been 
firm with herself about the blouse as he looked 
at her. 

I needn't ask if you've slept well," he said; 
“ your face proclaims it. Were your things all 
there? " 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW II5 

‘'Yes — everything, I think. I do hope you 
know how immensely grateful I am! I suppose 
you had to pay more than was fair; will you let 
me have the bill, please? 

“ Here it is, duly receipted. They’re charm- 
ing people — I can quite understand your reluc- 
tance to leave them! They knew all about the 
row, of course, and pretended to know nothing. 
They were so sorry to part with you that they 
wanted another week’s rent in lieu of notice; it 
was fortunate you told me that they were turn- 
ing you out. But behold, the affair is finished! 
Let us forget it, and be merry. Let us eat and 
drink, for this evening you go. Come out to 
lunch!” 

It was as yet too early to lunch, but that was 
no reason why they should remain in the hotel. 
Of a truth the little salon was somewhat cheer- 
less with its faded furniture, its bare table, and 
an album of Swiss views. When she reappeared, 
with a hat and gloves on, they sauntered toward 
the boulevards in good spirits. He was exhila- 
rated in reflecting that the morning had brought 
no disenchantment; it was the first time he had 
seen her clothed like a Christian, and he ap- 
proved the difference. 

“ Now, I come to think of it,” he said, “ we 


Il6 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


have never been introduced. It's not a matter of 
thrilling interest, but my name is Lingham — 
Ralph Lingham." He pronounced it ‘‘ Rafe." 

“ I am glad to know your name," she said. 

I was going to ask you what it was before I 
went. Do you live in Paris? " 

''Yes; that is to say. Pm going to. I have 
only been here a week or so, but I hope to be a 
fixture. Where do you live? London? " 

" I always stay in London between the en- 
gagements; of course, when Pm lucky. Pm on 
tour." 

" Why? Is it easier to get engagements for 
a tour than for town? " 

" Pve nearly always found it so; Pm only in 
the chorus, you know, and I take what is of- 
fered." 

" You took what was offered once too often," 
he said. " Haven't you any people to look after 
you?" 

" I lost my father before I went on the stage. 
No, I have no relations that I ever see. One gets 
used to it, you know. It was awful at first, but 
when Pm on tour, and the salary is all right, it 
isn’t so lonely as you’d think. Some of the girls 
are generally nice, and one usually finds a chum; 
two girls live together every week, and halve the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 11/ 

rent and the housekeeping expenses, and — if it’s 
a deluge — the cost of a cab to the station on 
Sunday morning. It comes out much cheaper 
that way, too.” 

'' And if it’s not a deluge — how do you get to 
the station then — walk with your trunk on your 
back? ” 

Oh, the baggageman collects the girls’ 
luggage the night before; we have only light 
things to carry. If we took cabs regularly we 
should be ruined. Of course, if you happen to 
get in just when the people are coming out of 
church, it isn’t pleasant tramping through a 
town with a rug and a bag in your hands. That’s 
horrid! You do feel such a mummer, so 
ashamed of yourself! ” 

‘‘ Good!” he said; ‘‘I like that.” 

You would like it? ” 

‘‘I mean I like the idea. I see it! The 
smug provincials in their Sunday black, and 
the tired little actress lugging a portmanteau 
through the High Street. Well? Tell me 
more! ” 

‘‘ There isn’t any more to tell,” she laughed, 
except that sometimes, when you’re very fool- 
ish, and the stage manager has bullied you — or 
a girl who has the honour of singing a single line 


Il8 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


by herself has sneered at you ‘ as one of the 
chorus ’ — you dream dreams.’’ 

‘‘ Oho,” said Lingham, ‘‘ you dream dreams, 
do you? This grows interesting. ‘ For I, too, 
have known my dreams! ’ What are they? ” 

Mine? Oh, well, for five minutes I imagine 
myself springing into a big part, and getting tre- 
mendous notices, and heaping coals of fire on 
my enemies’ heads. It’s quite exciting while it 
lasts, almost as good as the real thing! All the 
people are so fond of me, and so crushed to re- 
member that they were ever unkind! But I 
don’t really expect to get on any more; all that 
is over.” 

‘‘ Vanished with your youth? ” he asked. 

Why not, for goodness’ sake? Why shouldn’t 
you get on? You’ve a sweetly pretty voice.” 

She sighed. '' No, I shall never get on. And 
it wouldn’t satisfy me if I did — I wanted to do 
serious work, and that’s impossible. Naturally I 
should be very glad to arrive — I should be de- 
lighted — but the success wouldn’t be so dear to 
me as if I sang good music.” She pointed to the 
Opera House. Once upon a time I saw myself 
there, and — well, you know where you found 
me!” 

I’m very glad I did find you. B}^’ the way. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW II9 

how about the clothes you left behind? What 
were they? ” 

Oh, a dress,’’ she said, ‘‘ and a toque, and — 
and a jacket.” 

‘‘ Don’t you want them? ” 

'' Well, the dress had seen its best days, and 
the toque wasn’t worth anything. I should like 
the jacket, though, if you think it could be got.” 

Benighted Man awoke to the fact that she 
was jacketless. If he piqued himself on any- 
thing, it was on his closeness of observation; his 
chagrin was severe, and his Scotch tweed became 
on the instant a burden and a reproach. 

'' Why, what have I been thinking of? ” he 
exclaimed. '' You must be frozen. Now I notice 
it, that thing you have on is positively flap- 
ping; we must get another jacket at once! ” He 
looked agitatedly at a confectioner’s. Where 
is there a shop where they sell such things? ” 
'‘What an idea!” she returned. "It isn’t 
necessary at all. As a matter of fact ” — it cost 
her something to make the admission — " I have 
a much warmer blouse at the hotel. I have heaps 
and heaps of clothes. Please come on.” 

"I must really insist,” said Lingham; "you 
can pay me back, you know. I think you are in 
a position to afford a jacket; it is your own 


120 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


money, and you can afford it! You mustn't be 
mean. I beg you now — oblige me! " 

He would talk of nothing else, and the har- 
mony of the morning seemed to be in grievous 
peril. At last she consented, on the understand- 
ing that he would render her a faithful account 
of her indebtedness to him before they parted, 
and — fleeing from the boulevards as from a 
plague — she led him to the Printemps, where a 
fool of an assistant took her for his wife. 

Though this mistake was productive of mo- 
mentary embarrassment, their visit to the Prin- 
temps was, to Lingham at least, singularly 
charming. Nor was the charm less because their 
compact debarred him from obtruding his ad- 
vice. Her economy was invincible, and the 
frowns with which she rebuked his tentative 
temptations added a zest to the whole thing. 

I shall never be shown anything moderate," 
she whispered to him once; your expression 
as you sit there is simply fatal!" Then, too, 
when she had had her way, and some cheaper 
jackets had been displayed, it was delightful to 
have her turn to him in a captivating ‘‘ occa- 
sion " with a high collar, and say '' What do you 
think?" He found it so delightful that he im- 
mediately suggested that she should try on an- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I2I 


Other. He had never spent forty-five francs 
with greater satisfaction than when they turned 
into the street again; but she insisted on putting 
the bill in one of the smart little pockets, and 
vowed that she would keep it there till she had 
been honest. 

It was now nearly one o'clock, so they pro- 
ceeded to a restaurant. It was not a fashionable 
restaurant, for he was neither a rich man nor a 
fool, although in the pursuit of knowledge he 
had invited her to Marguery's. He took her to 
a small, and rather shabby establishment, to 
which few foreigners found their way. Here 
they secured a table to themselves, and after the 
sauterne was uncorked, he said: 

I propose to make a daring experiment; Fm 
going to try to renew an emotion. The last 
time I was in Paris I was brought to this place 
and introduced to quenelles with a pink sauce. 
Years have passed, but I have never forgotten 
that pink sauce. We are about to meet again. 
It is a solemn moment." 

When the waiter came back, both were 
silent. The sauce was thick, like warm cream, 
and the soft little balls had the appearance of 
miniature dumplings. She broke one diffi- 
dently, and raised the fork to her mouth, her 


122 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


companion watching her in suspense. The 
cream clung to her lips, and the tip of her tongue 
did the duty of a serviette. Her eyes smiled. A 
ripple of enjoyment curved her fair cheeks, and 
— her head tilted — she gave him a slow nod. 

‘‘ I think so, too,’’ he said; '' I think my 
youthful homage was fully justified, eh?” 

The daring experiment is a brilliant tri- 
umph,” declared Meenie. Do you often try to 
renew emotions? ” 

Long ago,” he replied, before my infatua- 
tion for the pink sauce, I was infatuated by a 
lady. When I bade her ' good-bye ’ with a burst- 
ing heart, I ventured to hope that one day I 
might see her again. She was a lady in your pro- 
fession, and she said: ‘ I have never found a re- 
vival a success.’ Experience has taught me to 
♦ appreciate her philosophy. The quenelles have 
been the exception that proves the rule. Let me 
give you some more of the sauce, and use your 
bread when the paste has gone.” 

She had never sat so long at a meal in her 
life, for they lingered quite half an hour over the 
fruit and cof¥ee. He mentioned casually that 
some of the habitues were men whose names 
were familiar to her, and though he wasn’t able 
to identify them, the knowledge that celebrities 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 23 

came here communicated to several commercial 
gentlemen in the room an instant fascination. 
She was sorry when there was no excuse for re- 
maining longer in this enchanted spot, where 
luncheons were poetized, and poets lunched, but 
he had finished his liqueur, and she dared not 
take one herself. Fearful of being a nuisance as 
well as an expense, she asked him now if he had 
no business to attend to, and if she had not better 
make her way back to the hotel alone. He as- 
sured her that he should only do his work in the 
evening after she had gone, and he looked so 
crestfallen at the inquiry that it was evident he 
had had other views. 

What I was going to suggest,’' he ex- 
plained, was that you should go back and put 
on that warmer blouse, and come for a drive. 
Your train goes at nine o’clock, so we have at 
least six hours. Why spend them yawning at 
Swiss photographs in the salon? We’ll go for a 
drive, and have tea at Neal’s, and I’ll get you 
some English papers, to amuse you on the boat 
in case you can’t sleep. Don’t spoil a pleasant 
program. Come ! ” 


CHAPTER XI 

‘‘ Have you been here before? ’’ he asked, as 
they rolled into the Avenue du Bois. ‘‘ Have 
you seen much of Paris? ” 

Pve never been so far as this,'’ she answered 
happily; ‘‘ when I got to the Arc de Triomphe I 
turned back. Don't laugh at my accent. I used 
to go for a walk every afternoon, though — all 
sorts of places! When I came to the name of a 
street that I'd met in books, I stood and thrilled 
at it. And I asked the way to the Pont Neuf, be- 
cause I knew ‘ Henri Quatre est sur le Pont 
Neuf,' Athos told D'Artagnan, didn't he? Or 
somebody said it in Eugene Sue? Anyhow, I 
knew it was an equivalent for ‘ Queen Anne is 
dead,' when I was a child, and it seemed wonder- 
ful to go and prove it a solid fact." 

‘‘You're a very nice girl," he said; “I've 
done that sort of thing myself so often! " 

“ Isn't it rapturous? I don't think any city 

124 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I25 

would be so exciting to me as Paris, just because 
I should never come across familiar names in any 
other. When I was at home — I mean when my 
father was alive — I had a girl come to stay with 
me from the country. It was her first visit to 
London; and I took her out and showed her 
Hertford House, which was Lord Steyne’s in 
Vanity Fair, you know, and the fountain in the 
Temple that they came to in Martin Chuzzlewit, 
and the two-pair-back in Brick Court where Oli- 
ver Goldsmith’s laundress found him dead in the 
morning. Well, she had lived in a village all her 
life, and read nothing. My information left her 
absolutely wooden, for she had never heard of 
one of the people I was talking about. It would 
be just the same with me if I went to Berlin or 
St. Petersburg.’’ 

‘‘ I can’t imagine you ' wooden ’ in any cir- 
cumstances,” said Lingham. ‘‘ A girl, in your 
situation here, who could go out and thrill at a 
statue ” 

‘‘ Oh, well, but I had to do something, you 
know,” she interposed; I should have gone mad 
if I’d sat in my room all day, thinking! I didn’t 
even have anything to read.” 

You are fond of reading, eh? ” he said. 

What do you read? ” 

9 


126 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 


‘‘ I have read very little. At home we had a 
dilapidated collection of the novelists that every- 
body knows, but since Tve been alone I have 
scarcely seen a book. Sometimes on tour I find 
a circulating library, but they generally want a 
half-crown deposit, and half-crowns don't lie 
about ‘promiscuous'! Do you read novels?" 

“Yes," he said. He hesitated a little. “I 
suppose everybody takes an interest in his own 
business; I write 'em." 

“ You are an author? " exclaimed Meenie. 
“ Really? I wondered what you did! Do you 
write as ‘ Ralph Lingham '? " 

“ Oh, yes. But pray don't run away with the 
idea that I'm a famous person. You are not 
likely to get any of my books at the circulat- 
ing libraries next time you're on tour, even if 
there's an available half-crown. You are talking 
to an able-bodied failure." 

“ I wondered what you did," she said again; 
“ I thought perhaps you were a journalist." 

“ Well, just now I'm a journalist, too — of 
sorts. It's journalism that has brought me to 
Paris. What made you guess it? " 

“ Something you said in the cabaret. You 
asked me about Madame Le Beau, and said the 
details might be useful to you one day." 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 12/ 

‘‘ Ah/' he replied, '' I was thinking of a novel 
then. It struck me that the experiences of a girl 
like you in a place like that would be worth treat- 
ing. How did you come there? Was it through 
an advertisement, or what? " 

'' I was engaged by an agent," she said. 

What, a regular theatrical agent? " 

'' No, not an agent who is known at all. But, 
of course, there are plenty of little agencies one 
hasn't heard of — I took it for granted he was all 
right. I was at Potter's one day, and a woman 
spoke to me. You know girls often speak to one 
another while they are waiting. She told me 
that she might be coming, too, and that there 
were vacancies. I went over to his office with 
her, and was engaged to leave the next evening." 

I see," he said. And she didn’t come, 
too?" 

No; she couldn't get out of an engagement 
that she had made for the provinces. It was a 
good thing for her! " 

His eyebrows rose. ‘‘ I shouldn't act on an- 
other of that woman's suggestions if I were you! 
She probably never meant to come. Hasn't it 
occurred to you yet that she was working for the 
man?" 

I must be awfully stupid," said Meenie in a 


128 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


whisper, after a slight pause. ‘‘ I ought to have 
thought of that, and I didn’t! I wonder if you’re 
wronging her? ” 

Perhaps I am, but don’t give her the benefit 
of the doubt,” he answered sharply. Don’t you 
see that you invite these catastrophes if you go 
about London jumping at every stranger’s bait? 
Before you accept an engagement to sing abroad 
you should make inquiries. For a rational being 
it seems to me your behaviour was the most ex- 
traordinary I ever heard of in my life.” Solici- 
tude and rage are contiguous in man; the 
thought of the danger she had run boiled in him. 

It was very foolish,” she admitted. 

‘‘ It wasn’t ‘ foolish ’; it was insane. Your in- 
nocence seems to have been positively Galatean. 
How on earth a normally sensible girl — you ap- 
pear to be normally sensible — could placidly 
place herself in the power of people she knew 
nothing about, in a country where she couldn’t 
speak the language, at a word from somebody 
she’d never seen before, is — is — well, it beats me! 
You aren’t fit to be on the stage; you ought to 
be in a nursery.” 

She did not seek to defend herself, and they 
leant back in the fiacre in silence, he frowning to 
the right, and she looking humbly to the left. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 29 

Presently the horse's head was turned, and they 
commenced the homeward course. Lingham 
glanced at her, and saw that she wore the air 
of a rebuked child. He felt that he had ex- 
pressed his opinion with more heat than cour- 
tesy, but he was still so indignant with her that 
he couldn't find it in his heart to confess he was 
sorry. Compromising with his penitence, he 
said: 

I wonder why nurses wear such long cap- 
strings in France." 

‘‘ It's rather quaint," she replied. ‘‘ Perhaps 
they are for the babies to play with." 

'' Yes," he said, ‘‘ I dare say; I didn't think 
of that. Well, have you enjoyed your drive? " 
Very much, indeed," she murmured. It 
has been beautiful." 

‘‘ I didn't bully you, did I? " he asked depre- 
catingly. 

‘‘ What you said was quite right; I must ap- 
pear a perfect gaby to you. Of course, I did 
behave in a very guileless fashion. All the same, 
it wasn't quite so inexcusable as you think; we 
girls are used to signing agreements with man- 
agers we don't know. If every time an engage- 
ment was offered to me I stopped to make in- 
quiries, I should never get one at all. While I 


130 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

was inquiring it would be given to somebody 
else.” 

‘‘ I understand,” said Lingham. “ But be- 
tween an opera company playing in the English 
theatres and a vague engagement for Paris, 
there is a lot of difference.” 

She nodded. ‘‘ Oh, yes. Only when you are 
badly in need of something to do, and the chance 
is there, you naturally hesitate to lose it. For 
that is what it would mean in nine cases out of 
ten if you weren’t prompt; you would lose it! I 
own that it never occurred to me to ask for time 
to consider, but even if it had, I should have been 
afraid to do it. Perhaps I should have been more 
discreet in happier circumstances, but most peo- 
ple would have leapt at an offer in my place.” 

You were hard up? ” he asked. “ Ah! ” 

‘‘ Hard up? ” she echoed; ‘‘ yes, I was toler- 
ably hard up. I had been to the agents’ offices 
every day for months; I was pretty nearly desper- 
ate. When the chance came, I thanked God.” 

“ It seems rather worse than being a novel- 
ist! ” he said. Then you lived in lodgings, and 
were in debt there, too? ” 

‘‘No, I wasn’t in debt; I just kept out of 
that. I pawned things that had belonged to my 
father, and — and economized.” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I3I 

“ Ate too little, I suppose you mean? What 
did you have for dinner? 

‘'Oh, don’t be absurd!” she said, averting 
her head. 

“ I asked because I wanted to know. I have 
dined on tobacco myself — and got up late be- 
cause bed was cheaper than breakfast. I won- 
dered whether you could give me any hints. 
Well, what would you have done if the ofifer 
hadn’t been made just when it was? ” 

“ I should have attacked my wardrobe,” she 
answered, “ and pawned a white silk frock.” 

“ And when the frock had gone? I’m not an 
expert, but I take it that even a white silk frock 
wouldn’t have kept you indefinitely.” 

“ I hadn’t looked beyond the frock. ... I 
might have spared a pair of shoes.” 

“ And after shoes? The deluge? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she said. “ I should have 
hoped for dry weather.” 

He turned to her with a slight movement of 
surprise, and then, looking away as quickly, sat 
with furrowed brows. At last he said on high 
notes: 

“ But I don’t see what you have to expect 
when you get back! It seems to me that you’ll 
be in just the same predicament as you were be- 


132 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

fore you came away. Will it be any easier to find 
an engagement now than it was three weeks 
ago? ” 

I hope so, said Meenie. “ Of course, the 
trouble was that companies aren’t sent out dur- 
ing the pantomime season; and the pantomime 
companies were all complete.” 

“ Well, they’re complete still, I suppose? ” 
he said. “The pantomimes haven’t begun yet; 
how will you be able to wait for them to finish? 
I thought that when you were back in London 
you would be out of the wood, but I— I don’t see 
what service I shall be doing you by sending you 
home after what you say. Barring miracles, there 
would be only a white silk frock and a pair of 
shoes between you and the workhouse.” 

She looked at him blankly. 

Well, isn t it so? he said. Or haven’t I 
understood you properly? ” 

“ Y-e-s, that’s right,” she faltered. “ But it’s 
cjuite certain I can t stop here. I can’t sing 
French; there is no likelihood of my finding any- 
thing to do in Paris.” 

By what you tell me, there is very little like- 
lihood of your finding anything to do in London. 
You say you had been out of an engagement for 
months; why should you expect to walk into one 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 33 

within a few days of your return? The only 
thing that I see before you in London is destitu- 
tion. If you are satisfied to starve, you may as 
well do it where you are and avoid the additional 
discomfort of a journey on a cold night/’ 

He folded his arms, and his brows rucked 
again. Meenie was thankful that he didn’t say 
any more. He had told her nothing that she had 
not told herself in moments, even while she was 
struggling to amass the fare; nothing that she 
would not have repeated on the boat. But dur- 
ing the last few hours she had been sanguine; 
and now her courage had all gone. It was quite 
true! There were before her the same obstacles 
that she had left behind. London had not al- 
tered; the bills would be just as hard to pay, the 
agents’ offices would be just as full. When she 
had been back a day her position would be just 
as critical. 

After a long silence, she said : 

Perhaps my accent wouldn’t be so much 
against me in the chorus here after all? What 
do you think? ” 

The cab stopped, and he rose and helped 
her out. ‘ While there’s tea, there’s hope,’ ” 
he said. Here we are at Neal’s! We’ll go up- 
stairs, and talk it over.” 


134 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

But he was not confident of her obtaining an 
engagement in a Paris theatre; and at their table 
in the reading-room, by one of the low, arched 
windows, they talked for a long time. She was 
too frank to ignore the fact that, primarily at 
least, he would feel responsible for her welfare if 
she remained; whereas, if she went, his responsi- 
bility would be over by nightfall. 

“ You say I may as well starve here as there,” 
she said; “ but you know very well you wouldn’t 
let me starve, at all events while you were able to 
prevent it. I should be a regular old man of the 
sea to you.” 

“ I should do my best to find you bread and 
butter, certainly,” admitted Lingham. “ On the 
other hand, if you went back, I should feel bound 
to lend you rather more than I could afford. It’s 
really a matter for your own decision; for God’s 
sake, don’t think that I’m trying to play Provi- 
dence to you! If you want to go, go; but, as I 
keep saying, I don’t see that you’ll be a scrap 
better off there than here. Now that you’re in 
Paris, why not try to find something to do in 
Paris? ” 

“ But you tell me that you don’t think I 
could get into a theatre here? ” 

“ Well, put the theatre idea aside; the man- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 3$ 

agers aren't waiting for you on their doorsteps in 
England, either! You might get into a theatre 
here eventually, but I should imagine it would be 
very difficult, and I shouldn't say it would be 
very desirable. I don't see how you are to wait 
for a theatrical engagement anywhere. If I were 
you, I should take whatever I could get for the 
present." 

Washing? " she asked hopelessly. 

“ Not necessarily washing. Take — take any- 
thing to tide you over. You needn't leave the 
stage for good; the agents can be written to, I 
suppose? When the pantomimes have finished — 
when there's a chance for you at home — you can 
throw the work up." 

I'll do anything that is possible," she de- 
clared. If I could earn ten shillings a week in 
Paris, of course it would be better for me than 
returning to London just now." 

That is precisely my opinion. . . . Very 
well! Then it is decided that you don't go to- 
night?" 

‘‘ Yes," she said, ‘‘ it is decided that I don't 

go." 

She looked down wonderingly at the street, 
at the rolling carriages, the movement on the 
sidewalk opposite. She wasn't going! It 
seemed very strange, a little unreal. 


CHAPTER XII 


She spent the evening in the salon; for com- 
pany she had a book that he had bought for her 
before they left the library. On impulse he had 
taken up one of his own, and it was no sooner in 
her hands than he regretted the choice, con- 
scious that if she uttered unintelligent criticisms 
she would destroy a great deal of the interest he 
was feeling in her. The novel seemed to her now 
so uncommonly clever that she was difhdent of 
acknowledging to herself how clever she did 
think it. It was a double pleasure to learn by 
the page of excerpts which Baron Tauchnitz ap- 
pended that many of the reviewers shared her 
opinion. She found this page laurels for her 
hero’s brow and a feather in her own cap. 

He, meanwhile, was shut in his bedroom, 
finishing his caiiserie for The Other Side, a newly 
established and temerarious journal, for which 
he was acting as Paris correspondent. A course 
136 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 37 

of newspaper work is the best possible training 
for a novelist, but novel writing does little or 
nothing to make a newspaper man, and in jour- 
nalism Lingham found his pen stubborn and his 
style stifif. Meenie, who sat glowing with ad- 
miration of Angela Brown, Publisher, would 
have marvelled greatly could she have seen to 
the third floor, where the author was mutter- 
ing curses, and calling himself an impostor and 
an ass. 

When he had thrust the copy into an en- 
velope with a final imprecation it was one 
o'clock. As he smoked his last pipe, his mind 
reverted to the need of obtaining employment 
for her, and he wondered whether, after all, he 
had advised her for the best. He wanted to 
place her in a situation without delay — for one 
reason because he knew she would be distressed 
if he didn't. He wished that he had more ac- 
quaintances in Paris. The right thing for her 
would be a companion’s post; companion to an 
amiable widow who was eager to pay somebody 
to read aloud and feed her canaries. It was a 
pity that the right thing was always so difficult 
to find. He had been looking for the right thing 
himself for years — ever since he discovered the 
truth of Scott's dictum that literature made a 


138 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

good cane, but a poor crutch — and the best sub- 
stitute he had grasped was this offer of a regular 
salary from a paper. No, a companion's post was 
the ideal, a pendant to his own dream of a snug 
government appointment! Well, he must think 
of something that was practicable; perhaps the 
New York Herald would shed an illuminating 
beam on the morrow! 

Early in the day they went out together to 
buy it, and on the way Meenie told him how 
much she had enjoyed the book. He had an un- 
appeasable appetite for praise in print, and a 
horror of it by word of mouth, but his fear that 
she would be ^ tupid was short-lived, and he soon 
found himself answering her as freely as if she 
had been a fellow-craftsman. It was not until 
they had glanced at the Herald that silence fell 
between them. He saw that the disappointment 
had depressed her. 

At last he said: 

ril tell you what Fll do. Ell look up an 
artist that I know here; she is a cousin of mine. 
Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sitting to her in cos- 
tume if she wants a model? You might be ' The 
Queen of the May, Mother,’ or ^ Coming 
through the Rye.’ I don’t know what they 
pay for that kind of thing, but I suppose it would 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 39 

mean a franc or two an hour. What do you 
say? 

I should be very much obliged to you.’’ 

All right, I’ll go this afternoon. Mind, it 
is very tiring work! ” 

'' Oh, that doesn’t matter a bit. If she will 
take me, I shall be only too glad. Why didn’t 
you propose it before? ” 

I wanted to get you something better. 
Still we can watch the advertisements, and you 
might go as model to her temporarily. On the 
whole it isn’t a bad idea.” 

He knew that his cousin was staying some- 
where in the Latin Quarter, and when he had 
found his note of her address he tramped over 
there. His conscience pricked him that he had 
not called on her when he arrived, for she was 
a very nice girl, and although they seldom saw 
each other, and never corresponded, they were 
always good friends when they met. 

Georgina Blair was much younger than he, 
not three-and-twenty yet. When she was a child 
she said she wanted to be an artist — meaning a 
painter — and her mother smiled; children always 
want to be funny things — sometimes they want 
to be circus riders. When she was seventeen, 
she said it again, more firmly, and her mother 


140 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


screamed. Mrs. Blair had fifteen hundred a year, 
and a carriage with a crest on it. But you will 
not put your name, w/iic/i is mine, too, on the 
covers of printed books? ” cried Madame Dude- 
vant.) Every artist has obstacles to vanquish; 
the fifteen hundred a year, and the crest, had 
been Miss Blair’s. Nor were they a whit less 
formidable than the hardships which lend them- 
selves to more sympathetic treatment in biogra- 
phies. Yet she had surmounted them, and with- 
out brutality. To an art class — meaning a 
school for painting — in Newman Street, to the 
British Museum, and to the National had she 
wooed her way by turn; and now, culminating 
triumph, she had reached the Quartier Latin. In 
remembering these things, Lingham reached it 
also, and after several inquiries, discovered the 
pension de famille that sheltered her. 

It was not imposing. 

Yes, a nice^girl, a decidedly nice girl! ” He 
would have said it as soon as she entered, even if 
he had not said it before. She had honest brown 
eyes, and a frank hand-clasp, and a mouth that 
was strong enough to be admirable, and not too 
firm to be sweet. 

''Halloo, Ralph!” she said; "so you have 
found me! The mater wrote me you were in 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I4I 

Paris; I’ve been afraid you would call when I was 
out. Put your hat away, and tell me all the 
news. If you sit down on that chair very care- 
fully, it won’t break. What is this thing you 
have dropped into, eh? ‘ Paris correspondent ’ 
sounds very fine.” 

“ It sounds finer than it is in my case,” he 
answered. “ Still, two guineas a week is some- 
thing.” 

“ It is immense,” she said, sincerely; “ I have 
never earned two guineas in a year. You have 
always needed a salary from somewhere to enable 
you to write in peace, haven’t you? And when 
have you another book coming out? ” 

“ In the spring. I’ve just placed it, and had 
a hundred pounds on account of royalties. Alto- 
gether I am dazed by my own wealth! Really, 
though, I begin to see my way, now that I’ve got 
this job on The Other Side; my journalism is 
rather like an omelet made by a plain cook as 
yet, but my hand will get lighter with practice/’ 

‘'And the book?” inquired Miss Blair; “is 
that good? ” 

“ Yes, I think it’s all right. There are one or 
two original features in it; I have a Jew who is 
neither a money lender nor an ‘ old do’ ’ man. 
And he can pronounce his w’s, and talks quite 


10 


142 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

like all' the Jews one ever meets. He’ll be a new 
type in modern fiction.” 

She smiled. ‘‘ Where are you living? ” 

‘‘ I’m at a little hotel in the Rue de I’Arcade, 
but I’m going to move. I only went there 
while I looked about me. Well, how are you 
getting on? You are not over here by yourself, 
are you — or has the emancipation reached even 
that stage? ” 

‘‘ Not quite; I came over with a girl I used to 
know at Heatherley’s. The mater approves of 
her — and we chaperon each other.” 

And the work? ” 

She ran her fingers through her fringe, and 
frowned. ''So, so. I’m pegging away, and I 
think I know more than I did. But so many 
people have talent — it’s very discouraging. Per- 
haps I shall do something decent in twenty 
years.” 

" ' Them’s my sentiments,^ ” said Lingham. 
"And I can’t afford to wait twenty years; in 
twenty years I shall be fifty-five.” 

" Oh, you! ” she laughed, " you are ' made ’! 
The public have never heard of me. If the critics 
wrote about me as they do about you, I should 
be a happy woman.” 

" Because recognition is all you need; 7 need 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW I43 

money as well. Heaven knows I don't under- 
value the criticisms Fve had, but I want some- 
thing substantial, too. It's easier for a writer 
with scruples to get fine criticisms than to get a 
living, take my word for it. Hence the job on 
the paper! ... I say, Georgie! " 

What?" 

I want you to do something for me." 

And hence this visit! " she exclaimed. 

Not altogether," said Lingham; and then 
he told her the circumstances. 

She listened at first with evident amusement; 
but as the seriousness of the situation became 
clear to her, the smile faded, and she ran her 
fingers through her fringe more than once. 
When he made his request that she would give 
Meenie employment as a model, her gesture 
told him that the plan was hopeless before she 
spoke. 

My dear Ralph," she said, ‘‘ I don't employ 
models. You want a full-blown artist, not a stu- 
dent; I'm at Colarossi's. I'd do it with pleasure 
if I were able, but I couldn’t have a model here 
even if I wanted one. If there is anything 
else " 

She doesn't require a fiver," he said; ‘‘I 
mean she wouldn't accept it. She is — it sounds, 


144 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

of course, very improbable after the story of how 
I met her — she is a lady. I know / shouldn’t be- 
lieve it either if somebody told me the story. 
It’s one of those things that nobody ever be- 
lieves unless it happens to himself.” 

‘‘ I, at least, don’t disbelieve it,” she replied. 
“ On the contrary, I am very interested. I 
should like to come to the rescue. I wonder if 
she would be of any use to Madame Pigeon- 
neau.” 

I wouldn’t allow her to go sitting to any- 
body and everybody,” he answered quickly. I 
shouldn’t have suggested her becoming a model 
at all if it hadn’t been that I thought she could 
come to you.” 

Madame Pigeonneau,” explained Miss 
Blair, ‘‘isn’t an artist; she keeps this pension. 
She is an invalid, and her daughter, who used to 
look after things, has just married. I know the 
old lady wants somebody to help her now. Does 
the girl speak French? ” 

“ Not a syllable,” said Lingham. “ She 
doesn’t even think she does.” 

“ That’s a pity.” 

“ I suppose it’s a fatal objection? ” 

“ It’s a drawback; but, after all, if she is in- 
telligent — Madame Pigeonneau speaks English 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW I45 

a little. It's an English house, you know, and 
there are only eight of us here — all budding 
geniuses from perfidious Albion or America. Fll 
talk to her if you like, and let you know what she 
says. I don’t suppose the salary would be much 
— the establishment is on a very modest scale al- 
together — but the place would be comfortable, 
and more homelike than any other that you are 
likely to find.” 

It looked to Lingham so desirable a solution 
of the difficulty that he begged her to use all her 
influence to compass her, and she promised to 
post a line to him in the evening to say whether 
she had succeeded or not. 

Of course, when he returned to the hotel, he 
told Meenie that they must not build on success, 
but there was none the less a prospect, and it was 
pleasant to discuss. On , the other hand, she 
turned very pale the next morning when he 
showed her a letter making an appointment for 
her to call. Her eagerness to secure the position 
had not abated during the night, but she trem- 
bled now at the thought of coming back with the 
news that she had failed. It had been bad 
enough to fail at the agents’ offices when she 
was paying her own expenses; to-da)^ when they 
were being paid by somebody else, she felt that a 


146 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O^ THE WINDOW 

rejection would be bitterer stilL She admitted 
something of the sort. 

'' If she doesn’t take me, I shall never have 
the courage to come back and tell you so,” she 
said. And I don’t suppose for a second that 
she will! I am so used to being disappointed 
that I apply for things with a disappointed look. 
Before I go in, I try to conjure up a sunny ex- 
pression, but a long course of the dramatic 
agents has done its fatal work, and my face feels 
stiff.” 

'' I don’t suppose for a second that she’ll ar- 
range with you, either,” said Lingham gaily. I 
thought I had been insisting on the fact all yes- 
terday.” 

Oh, that was before the letter came. Then 
it was different. It rests with me now — whether 
she likes me, or not. You would have done 
much better to put me on the boat, and get rid 
of me, you know! Think what it will mean if I 
meet with one refusal after another! That’s the 
fear that is paralyzing me. If this woman says 
I’m no use, we shall try to make light of the 
matter. / sha’n’t feel much like making light of 
it, but yotCll be very nice, and say it wasn’t to be 
expected I should find anything so quickly, and 
all that sort of thing. And then there’ll be an- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I47 

other; and you’ll be nice to the ' old man of the 
sea ’ again. But it is the ‘ old man of the sea ’ 
that I shall be to you, just as I warned you, and 
— and by degrees you’ll wonder why on earth 
you were so generous.” 

If you were ever a sanguine and cheery con- 
versationalist,” he said, the dramatic agents 
have a lot to answer for indeed! I thought I 
was bad enough myself, but compared with you. 
I’m Mark Tapley.” 

Oh,” she cried, ‘‘ I should be hateful if I 
didn’t worry! You’re a man — you don’t under- 
stand. A man always thinks a girl is satisfied to 
be treated like a child in money matters! Can’t 
you put yourself in my place? Can’t you 
imagine that I am just sick with anxiety to — 


He patted her arm; the sudden passion in her 
voice embarrassed him. 

“ Yes, I will say it,” she went on, to show 
that I’m worthy! You think I’m a nice little fool 
— you have the right to think me a fool; as you 
say, I behaved like Galatea — but I’m not such a 
fool that I don’t understand you took me on 
trust in the face of the most awful circumstances. 
Well, I want you to see that your trust wasn’t 
misplaced in any way — in any way; I want you to 


148 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

see — I want to prove to you — that you didn’t 
pick up a girl who is content to sponge on you! 
That isn’t prettily put; it’s rather coarse, isn’t it? 
But it’s exactly what I mean; I want to prove 
that you didn’t pick up a girl who is content to 
sponge on you.” 

She whisked by him with her head low be- 
fore he could reply. She was rather ashamed of 
her vehemence, and more than ever she felt that 
Madame Pigeonneau’s decision would be unfa- 
vourable. She had no expectation of success 
whatever, as she made the journey. So when, 
she was engaged, the miracle was thrice blessed. 

Lingham was waiting for her in the hall, re- 
hearsing phrases of consolation, and she ran 
toward him, laughing and breathless. 

“ I’ve got it! ” she exclaimed. “ Oh, I am so 
grateful! Your cousin is a dear! She had stayed 
in on purpose to introduce me. Madame * 
Pigeonneau isn’t laid up — I expected to find her 
in bed — she has only a weak heart — oh, and a 
good heart! She was very nice to me, and said 
I was ‘ tres gentille.’ Did you know I was ‘ tres 
gentille ’? I’m to go at once — to-morrow, and 
— well, I’ll tell you all about it properly. When 
I went in, Madame Pigeonneau said: ‘ So zis is ze 
young lady? ’ Your cousin said I was; and I said 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I49 

I was, and then there was a little pause — I just 
quaking in my slices, you know, and trying to 
look composed and dignified all the while. Then 
Madame Pigeonneau asked me if I had any ex- 
perience, and I was able to say that I had kept 
house for my father from the time I was sixteen. 
That went a long way. She asked if I would get 
up early and go marketing with Julie — ^Julie 
is the servant — and whether I would learn a list 
of French words in my spare time: the beef, the 
mutton, the cauliflower, and the potatoes. When 
I said that my French extended as far as that al- 
ready, the sensation was enormous! Well, Fm 
not to have any salary for three months — that’s 
the worst part of it, because I sha’n’t be able to 
pay what I owe you yet — but I have got the 
place, and I should like to shout ‘ hurrah ’ at the 
top of my voice.” 

The demonstration was not practicable where 
they were, and in the evening, when he took her 
to the Nouveau Cirque to celebrate the triumph, 
her excitement had subsided. Nevertheless, it 
was a very happy evening. In no hours had he 
found her so attractive, so ready to see a jest, or 
to make one, as in these. He regretted to realize 
that their brief intimacy was ending. There was 
even a touch of sentimentality in his mood as he 


150 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

reflected that on the morrow she would be gone. 
As for the girl, she knew that she would miss his 
companionship more than she would have be- 
lieved it possible to miss the presence of a man 
whom she had known so short a time. It com- 
forted her to remember that Miss Blair was an 
inmate of the pension, for that meant that he 
would come there sometimes. 

‘'We shall often see each other,’’ said Ling- 
ham, as if in response to her thought. They had 
had chocolate at a cafe, and were strolling home. 
The lamps on the boulevards shone clear and 
cold, and there was the swishing of the brown, 
leafless trees in the wind. 

“ I hope so,” said she. “ But we sha’n’t see 
each other before I go; I want to arrive there 
very early. So when we say ‘ good-night ’ we 
will say ‘ good-bye,’ too.” 

“ I shall get up and see you off,” he an-f 
swered. 

“ I would rather you didn’t; ‘ good-byes ’ in 
the early morning are always so sad, don’t you 
think? Besides, it won’t really be good-bye at 
all, will it? I ” — she hesitated — “ I am always 
saying it, and my words sound emptier in 
my ears every time, but to-night I must tell you 
again that ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 151 

''Oh, no,’’ he said, "don’t, please! Let us 
take it for granted. I know all you would like to 
say, and it’s really so unnecessary. I wish I 
could have done more. You’re going into this 
thing like a little trump, and you’re gay and 
you’re brave about it, but don’t imagine that I 
don’t know it must have its sting to you, all the 
same.” 

"It hasn’t,” she said; "honestly, it hasn’t. 
Once I dare say . . . but not now.” 

"I shall often come there,” he -said again. 
" When you have a holiday, you must let me 
spend it with you. I suppose you will get a holi- 
day sometimes? ” 

" I didn’t ask,” she said; " I expect I shall. 
It’s queer to feel that Paris is going to be my 
home; I may stop here for years, mayn’t I? I 
may never go on the stage again. After all, I 
don’t know why I should; I have only done it 
for a living, and I shall have a living here now.” 

" They say it is very difficult to leave the 
stage,” he replied; " almost as difficult as to get 
on it.” 

" It wouldn’t be difficult to me,” said the 
girl. " Talking of the stage, did you ever write a 
play? I thought when I read your book that 
it would make a very fine play. And An- 


152 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O^ THE WINDOW 

gela Brown, Publisher, would be a striking 
title/’ 

‘‘ Pm not sure that it would be a good title 
for a play . . . but I don’t know; I can see it on 
the ’buses! Perhaps one day I shall try my 
hand at dramatic work. It never occurred to me 
to dramatize Angela Brown, Publisher, though 
. . . You’re really determined that I am not to 
see you off in the morning? ” 

‘‘ I would rather you didn’t,” she repeated. 
'' Madame Pigeonneau asked me to get there 
as soon as I could, and I want to leave at 
seven.” 

'‘Very well; . . . you’re in a feverish hurry 
to run away from me.” 

"Not that; but to — to leave off being a 
burden,” she said. 

" You’re unkind. Do you know you hurt me 
very much this morning? You mustn’t say that 
I have found you a burden! ” 

" The word was bad,” she owned; " I didn’t 
mean to hurt you.” She looked away from him, 
between smiles and tears. 

" I shall miss you to-morrow,” said Lingham, 
impulsively. " I should like to have — I wish I 
hadn’t meddled! . . . I seem to have known you 
much longer than I have, Miss Weston. Is 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 53 

‘ Weston ’ your real name, or a professional 
one? ” 

“ My real name,” she said. 

“ And — and ‘ Meenie ’? ” 

“ ‘ Meenie ’ is real, too.” 

They had reached the step, but they had to 
wait to be admitted. After they had rung twice, 
the porter turned in his bed and pulled the cord, 
and they entered the hall, dim in the blueness of 
a single burner. 

The girl drew of? her right glove. 

“ Good-night, Miss Meenie Weston,” said 
Lingham, facing her. 

“ Good-night, and — au revoir,” she said. 

In the glimmer of the lowered gas-jet their 
gaze dwelt together for a moment; then the soft- 
ness of her hand fell from him, and she went 
slowly up the stairs. 

When about ten minutes had passed. Ling- 
ham stole to the fifth floor, too, and tapped. 

Her voice reached him faintly. 

“ It is I,” he said. “ I’m pushing a note 
under the door. Can you see it? There’s no 
answer. Good-night.” 

“ Good-night.” 

She crept forward, a little white-gowned 
figure with her hair about her shoulders, and 


154 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

read his message in the candle-light. ‘‘ For the 
cab, and the pocket-money.’’ Two louis slipped 
from the envelope. 

The stairs creaked unmusically as he went 
down. 

She locked her hands over her breast, and 
listened to every footfall. 

Dear little woman! ” murmured Lingham, 
looking up in the bareness of his room. 


CHAPTER XIII 


In the pension dwelt nine girls, and some of 
them were fair to see. Each had her aims, her 
joys, her sorrows, and was the heroine of a story; 
but this is the story of only one girl. Six of the 
nine studied at Colarossi’s in La Rue de la 
Grande Chaumiere, two worked at Delecluse’s in 
La Rue Notre Dame des Champs, and the other 
stopped at home and counted the candles and 
distributed the soap. And when Madame Pi- 
geonneau kept her room, the ninth girl reigned 
in her stead over the ragout. 

The ninth girl was not unhappy. If appetite 
is the best sauce, occupation is the best tonic. 
When she began to understand her duties, she 
extracted some pleasure from them. If she occa- 
sionally left undone things which she ought to^ 
have done, she offered compensation by the per- 
formance of tasks for which she was not engaged. 
She made beds. And she made something else. 


156 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

which the students received with acclamation, 
and which Julie eyed amazed — she made tea! 
The tea and her singing were such successful con- 
tributions to the gaiety of the salon that Cola- 
rossi's and Delecluse's furnished two further ap- 
plicants for board and residence within a fort- 
night. Madame Pigeonneau could not take 
them because the house was already full, but 
none the less she appreciated the advertisement. 

In this environment of high thoughts and 
plain living, it was the ninth girl who provided 
the love interest. His cousin, whom Lingham 
asked for when he called, was the first to discover 
whom he came to see; but when she invited him 
to share the ragout, and he passed the evening 
in Meenie's presence with eight young women 
looking on, there wasn’t a boarder in the pension 
who failed to scent a romance. Personally they 
shunned romance; righteously reared damsels, 
every student of them, they connected romance 
with marriage, and no girl who took her art seri- 
ously could contemplate domesticity without 
hysterics. Four of the English girls were even 
members of the A. M. L., a society founded in 
the British Museum for the purpose of preserv- 
ing the feminine student from temptation. 
The initials signified the “ Anti-Matrimonial 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 5/ 

League/’ Still, to those whose mission in life 
was less important than their own, they recog- 
nised that romance was not necessarily fatal. 
Courtship as an entertainment they condoned, 
and, indeed, approved ; secure in the pit, one ap- 
plauds temerity on the trapeze. Speculation ran 
high as to Miss Weston’s sentiments. The two 
pensionnaires who worked at the Academie Dele- 
cluse declared that no signs of spooniness were 
visible,” but among the six at Colarossi’s the 
general opinion was that she thought him a 
dear.” It is strange that woman is always able 
to diagnose the love fever more readily in a man 
than in one of her own sex. 

So much for the audience. As to Meenie, 
she was in love, and knew it ; Lingham had fallen 
in love, but was reluctant to acknowledge it yet. 
He said he liked her very much. He liked to b6 
with her; he was thankful when he found himself 
alone with her. When his cousin remembered 
that there was a letter or a photograph upstairs 
that she wanted to show him, and Meenie and he 
were left tete-a-tete for five minutes, he counted 
it unto Georgina for righteousness. It will be 
seen that Georgina had taken a fancy to Meenie. 
In a novel she would have been her rival, and 
either have warned her solemnly that the mar- 

II 


158 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

riage would ruin his career, or have congratu- 
lated them both with a smile, and shed scalding 
tears in private. Her actual thoughts were that 
Miss Weston was very nice, and that it was a 
great pity Ralph wasn't better off. 

Meenie's outdoor exercise was not taken 
solely in the company of Julie, nor for the pur- 
chase of provisions. She went sometimes for a 
walk, and by-and-bye Lingham learnt the fact, and 
they wandered about the Quartier together. At 
this stage he knew that he was very fond of her, 
because a man can not loiter at the end of a street 
for half an hour on the chance of a girl coming 
round the corner, and to continue to euphemize. 
Then he inquired sternly what his intentions 
were; if he didn't mean to propose to her,* he was 
behaving unfairly. He was certainly in no posi- 
tion to rnarry. If anybody had ever asserted that 
he would think of taking a wife unto himself on 
an income of two guineas a week, and something 
over seventy pounds in cash, he would have re- 
plied that the prophet had been drinking. His 
convictions were suddenly deranged; the pic- 
tures that he had aspired to allured him no more, 
and he revelled in impressions which had form- 
erly made him shudder. The Chippendale book- 
case, the right editions, the stall when he went to 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 59 

the play — what was it all worth? A man might 
look back and lament in the midst of Chippen- 
dale bookcases! A tiny apartment under the 
slates, with the girl in his arms and a manuscript 
in the press, would be a richer joy. Besides, he 
would get on. It wasn’t probable — in his present 
mood — to suppose that public recognition 
would never come to him. They could be pa- 
tient; they could economize until he hit the pop- 
ular taste. Perhaps the novel that was due in the 
spring would be a pecuniary success. He might 
make several hundred pounds by it — for that 
matter, he might make a great deal more. Other 
writers managed to please the critics and the 
public, too. Why shouldn’t he? And he might 
attempt a comedy. Her suggestion of his dram- 
atizing Angela Brown, Publisher, had taken 
root in his mind, and vaguely he saw a scenario. 
Without the post on The Other Side he told 
himself that he wouldn’t have dared to rush into 
matrimony; but although the salary would not 
pay their expenses, it would eke out the money 
in hand until a further sum came in. 

Perhaps she did not like him enough. She 
was grateful to him; there was a touch of senti- 
ment in her gratitude, he was sure; but she 
might consider that even employment without 


l6o WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 


anxieties was preferable to a reckless marriage. 
It would be delicious irony to have his own fa- 
miliar arguments turned against him! A pair of 
blue eyes had sent his theories all spinning in the 
air; let the lips prate prudence, and the situation 
would be complete! How he had always ridi- 
culed the idea of love in a cottage, loathed it, 
sickened at it! He knew that cottage; several 
of his acquaintances had taken it, and asked him 
to dinner. It was furnished conspicuously with 
Aspinall and the wedding presents. The train 
service was excellent — in the time-table — and 
you smelt boiled cabbage, and heard the babies 
crying when you entered the front door. And 
yet — well, he did not crave for a baby now, but he 
would welcome even Aspinall and a suburb as 
concomitants to Meenie. 

When she had been at the pension a little 
more than a month, he confessed it ; not in those 
words, but in the best phrases that he could find. 
They were very artless. Realist though he was, 
he would have hesitated to put such a proposal 
into one of his books. For this reason, among 
others, the proposal is omitted from the narra- 
tive. He explained his circumstances with per- 
fect candour, and asked her if she would be his 
wife. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW l6l 

They were on the Boulevard Saint-Michel 
— a poor place to propose in, though a million 
romances begin and end there. Twilight was 
falling; the windows of the brasseries and cafes 
glowed warmly, and the flower sellers and the 
olive venders, and the decorative Turks, with 
their trays of sweets, dodged deftly among the 
crowd. 

Yes,” she said. 

The man was seized with regret that he could 
not catch her close and kiss her. The girl, who 
was equally ecstatic, did not feel the need of a 
physical caress yet. To him the crowd that kept 
her from his arms became momentarily more ob- 
trusive, more irritating; to her it was impalpable, 
a dream; only he and she were the realities. A 
hand thriist a posy toward him; a voice pleaded 
to him to buy a little bouquet for his sweetheart 
— seulement trente centimes.” He grasped 
the blossoms as an augury, and drew her out of 
the stream of traffic to a table, where they were 
served with something that she could not taste. 

Then he leant toward her, and whispered. 

She looked at him across the flowers. It’s 
very wonderful,” she said, speaking as if she were 
in church. 


I was just thinking so, too.” 


1 62 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


‘‘ I meant it is wonderful to feel you care for 
me/’ 

I meant it is wonderful to feel you’re going 
to be my wife.” 

‘‘ Seize sous, m’sieu,” said the waiter briskly. 
“ Merci bien, m’sieu! ” He whipped up the tray, 
and bustled to the counter. 

‘‘ I hope I’m not letting you do wrong? ” she 
went on after a silence. ‘‘ Perhaps one day you’ll 
wish we hadn’t met each other.” 

‘‘ You know I shall never do that; it is you 
who are being rash.” 

‘‘I?” 

‘‘ We shall be awfully hard up.” 

‘‘ I have been hard up all my life.” 

“ We may rise to an attic.” 

“ I’ll make it pretty if we do! We’ll have a 
flower-pot, and a bird-cage in the window.” 

‘‘ A bird would drive me mad when I’m at 
work; I have a dreadful temper,” 

‘‘ So have I — furious! ” 

You? You’re an angel! ” 

She laughed softly. ‘‘ You don’t know me 
yet. Wait till you find me out! ” 

The prospect thrilled him; his heart swelled 
at it. He clasped her hand furtively, with an eye 
on the waiter’s back. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 63 

“ Meenie! ” 

“ Well?” 

“ Tell me my name.” 

“ ‘ Mr. Lingham. ’ ” 

“ I’ve warned you what my temper is like.” 

“ Then ‘ Ralph ’ — because I’m frightened.” 

“ Meenie!” 

“ Yes? ” 

“ Nothing — I wanted to say ‘ Meenie,’ that’s 
all. . . . Meenie, I sha’n’t be able to write a line 
to-night; can’t you get away, and go out with 
me?” 

“ Oh, I can’t again this evening! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ How could I? ... You might 
come there instead — if you want to see me very 
much.” 

“ That’s not so good. I hate those gawky 
girls sitting about the room and listening to 
every word I say to you! Still, I suppose I must 
put up with them a little longer. You will ar- 
range to leave soon, won’t you? When will you 
marry me, Meenie? ” 

“ Some day,” she murmured, “ if we don’t 
grow wise.” 

“ Will you marry me next week? ” 

“ Next week? ” She played with the tea- 
spoon, and her bosom rose. 


164 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

‘‘ Monsieur ees not reading ze Figaro? ’’ A 
waiter, proud of his English, pointed to the jour- 
nal on the table. 

No,’’ said Lingham impatiently, ‘‘ no, take 
it.” He leant closer to her. ‘‘ Why should we 
wait?” he urged. ‘‘Poor people ought to be 
practical! We shall have seventeen hundred and 
fifty francs next week; the week after, there 
won’t be so much. To delay would be sheer im- 
providence; the prudent course is to marry at 
once.” 

A clock brought her down to the earth. 

“ I must go,” she said, starting. “ I had for- 
gotten all about the time — Madame Pigeonneau 
will wonder where I am. . . . Then you will 
come to-night? ” 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I shall come, of course; but 
Pm going to the end of the street with you now. 
You needn’t run, Cinderella; look, your coach is 
on the rank! ” 

“ We can’t afford it, prince,” she smiled. 

He found the plural number enchanting, but 
he drove her to the corner in spite of the remon- 
strance. The crowd on the pavement would 
have hindered her; and in the shadow of the cab 
there was no one in the way. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The earliest joy that first love yields a girl 
is the sense of being mastered. The second is the 
revelation of her own power. This astonishes 
her; the god kneels, and the throne is hers. At 
the beginning she is a little breathless, a little 
bewildered; she does not realize herself in the 
aspect that she wears to him. She discovers that 
she possesses a force she knew nothing about — 
she intoxicates. She has intoxicated nobody 
hitherto; neither her brothers, to whom she has 
been sexless, nor her sisters, who have always 
told her that she would be pretty if her nose 
weren't so long. It startles* her to find that the 
hands that cut the bread and butter can make a 
man tremble when they touch him; that the hair 
she has brushed and coiled impassively all her life 
holds a shiver in every thread. She has scruti- 
nized her features night and morning for years, 
yet her lover's eyes reflect a magic in her face 

165 


l66 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


which the mirror has not shown. She wonders, 
she experiments, she exults. His emotions sur- 
prise her as the bits of paper attracted by the 
sealing-wax surprise a child; she finds it lovely 
to see them jump. Very soon she accepts di- 
vinity as a birthright; and her family, to whom 
she still is mortal, gape. 

Meenie’s engagement to Lingham differed 
from most engagements only insomuch as it was 
briefer. Of course, she consented to marry him 
in the following week, and meanwhile they 
hunted for a place to live in. As an engaged man 
he found that the evening in the salon^ with 
eight pairs of eyes studying his symptoms, had 
its awkwardness; it was embarrassing for the 
fiancee, too, so she obtained permission to go 
out every afternoon now, and the number of 
slatternly landladies they contrived to interview 
on these afternoons was highly creditable. It 
had promised to be the easiest thing in the world 
to choose a lodging, but the adjectives in ad- 
vertisements are so misleading. For charm- 
ing both conceived quite a violent hatred; the 
charming rooms ’’ that proved to be dirty be- 
yond expression were as numerous as the half- 
dressed proprietaires. 

Yet, though they were sometimes tired, and 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 167 

often disappointed, it was not devoid of excite- 
ment to mount the high staircases together and 
conjecture what would be revealed at the top; 
not without its tremors to inspect side by side 
the apartments where they might soon lie heart 
to heart. It was not conventional — it was 
manage du Qiiartier Latin — but the sense of 
intimacy was delicious. They wanted, at a mod- 
erate rental, a couple of rooms, prettily furnished, 
with a piano, and attendance, and a pleasant 
view. Who should seek less? Yet it began to 
seem as if they must decide between a flat, with 
a servant to sleep out, and a pension. And the 
one was expensive, the other distasteful. 

Their honeymoon was to be spent in Paris. 
From the consulate they intended to drive 
straight home. Lingham had suggested a fort- 
night in the country, but the girl was obdurate. 
You have been extravagant enough,” she said; 
when we are married, we must begin as we 
mean to go on.” They were eager in these cir- 
cumstances to make their choice speedily, so 
that the place might look cosy when they en- 
tered. The man wanted his books unpacked, and 
Meenie had visions of flowers and her music. 

At last they stumbled on a veritable bargain 
over a shop in La Rue Poncelet. The piano 


l68 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


merely needed tuning, and the woman was not 
only cheerful, but — for a Paris landlady — clean. 
She offered them two rooms for ninety francs a 
week, including food and wine. They could see 
potentialities in those rooms. When they had 
‘‘ put their things about,’' all would be well. 
She was ready to provide a second table for mon- 
sieur to write at, and expressed the conviction 
that ‘‘ madame ” would find her cooking phe- 
nomenal. Nobody could say more. L'ingham 
paid Madame Goigoux a deposit on the spot, and 
they descended the stairs jubilantly. " 

Thenceforward they made daily pilgrimages 
to La Rue Poncelet. On Monday they enshrined 
a plant, and on Tuesday, in Les Ternes, they 
picked up some bookshelves. Georgina was a 
very good friend to them, and her ideas on the 
subject of a wedding present were so exuberant 
that they required restraining. He had invited 
her to breakfast with them at a restaurant after 
the ceremony, but in the end it was settled that 
he should give a little dinner instead, the day be- 
fore; and previous to the dinner they imparted 
to their abode the finishing touches. 

They had arrived with their trunks. It was 
almost as if they were man and wife already as 
the luggage was dumped into the salon, and they 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 169 

knelt over their belongings on the same carpet. 
The chest that held the books was difficult to 
open, but when the lid was wrenched off, and, 
between the brown paper, the volumes showed 
their alluring backs, the girl’s fair head dipped to 
the contents as blithely as a duck’s to the stream. 
Nor was she dilatory with the duster. They ar- 
ranged their library in four fascinating rows. 
Then Meenie took out the photographs of her 
parents, which she put on the mantel-shelf, and 
one of herself at the age of twelve, which Ling- 
ham annexed immediately, and vowed must 
stand nowhere but on the second table. For the 
adornment of the walls Madame Goigoux had 
deposited on the floor a stack of unframed can- 
vases that had been the property of a former 
lodger, and these they pounced on to communi- 
cate to the ensemble a dash of colour; a sugges- 
tion of the studio, which would lift it into the 
ideal. 

They examined the Italian models and the 
dancing girls together, a committee of two, 
cheek by cheek. One dancing girl recurred so 
often that they drew inferences, and some of the 
Academies ” Lingham promptly dropped be- 
fore the cheek approached, for consideration 
after they were married. He balanced himself 


170 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

on a flight of steps, and Meenie stood at the foot, 
with a critical eye, and her hand full of tacks. As 
often as she held one up to him he kissed her 
fingers, at the risk of breaking his neck, and this 
made the process of picture hanging unnecessa- 
rily slow. However, when their selections were 
all displayed to the best advantage, the improve- 
ment was undeniable. With the sketches and the 
books, and the plant blooming in the window, 
the little interior was inviting enough. They 
surveyed the result of their labours with unmixed 
approval; and as to Madame Goigoux, who re- 
turned to see how they were getting on, she 
waxed so enthusiastic that they began to fear 
she might raise the rent. 

But their complaisance was as nothing com- 
pared with their rapture in opening the door 
next evening. Welcome was in the air. The 
world was hidden by the curtains; lamplight 
shone on the bulbous gold of the champagne 
bottle; and the glasses twinkled on the cloth. 
The girl unpinned her hat ; his emotion was infi- 
nite; they had come to stay — she lived with him 
here — incredible! Let me take off your jack- 
et! he begged. It was thrilling to divest her of 
it; to draw off her gloves; and, for the first time, 
to have her nestle in his arms in the atmosphere 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 171 

of home. She gathered up the things and tripped 
to the bedroom. He wandered restlessly, long- 
ing for her to return. The dinner had been or- 
dered from a restaurant close by, and presently 
Madame Goigoux came in with the soup. He 
called; and his wife answered. O bounteous 
hour, fruitful in surprises! To call, and to hear 
one’s wife answer — the strange joy shook him. A 
moment later she reappeared, and lo! the fairy 
godmother had been with her — and she was 
transfigured, dazzling in a white silk frock. He 
caught his breath. 

I couldn’t help it! ” She blushed. ‘‘ Our 
wedding day! I wanted to look nice.” 

His eyes devoured her. Her own drooped 
before them, but her bosom was triumphant. 

You look beautiful,” he murmured. ‘‘ You 
look taller. How did I find the courage to pro- 
pose to you? ” He offered his arm. Mrs. Ling- 
ham, may I take you down? ” 

They went to the table. The cork popped a 
salute, and they moved the lamp, that they 
might see each other better. 

Say that again,” she commanded; '' I liked 
it.” 

'' Say what? That you are beautiful? ” 

'' No, no; my new name.” 


172 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

So he repeated it. Mrs. Lingham! But 
‘ Meenie ’ vibrates to me much more.’’ 

Oh, ‘ Meenie ’ is so old to met ” 

He foamed her glass afresh. I propose the 
health of the bride and bridegroom. I say from 
my heart that the bride is divine. What she saw 
in the bridegroom Heaven knows; I don’t. But 
utterly unworthy of her as he is ” 

‘‘ No! No! ” she cried. 

In spite of unseemly interruptions, I say 

that utterly unworthy of her as he is ” 

He isn’t!” 

‘‘ I thank God he won her! I ask you to 
drink to their happiness, darling.” 

They clinked their glasses, with his arm 
about her waist; and Madame Goigoux came 
back with the fish. 

Of a truth Madame Goigoux was rather a 
nuisance, for the courses seemed so many, and 
their appetite was so small. By the time the 
entree was reached the carefully considered 
dinner became as perfunctory as a banquet in a 
play. Everything looked very good; there was 
the semblance of feasting; but as for the ban- 
queters’ appreciation of the viands, that was the 
merest show. For all its flavour to the bride, 
the bird might have been created by the property 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 73 

master; and if the groom had obeyed half the im- 
pulses that seized him to snatch her hands from 
her knife and fork, the dinner would never have 
been finished at all. 

However, he was patient, and held them 
when the cloth was cleared. Butterfly kisses are 
the quiver of a girl’s eyelashes on her lover’s face. 
She made him smoke, saying that she would not 
be treated as if she were a visitor. ' She won- 
dered if he wanted to put his slippers on, but she 
didn’t like to ask him that, although she was 
sure that boots worn all day must be extremely 
painful. 

By-and-bye he begged her to sing, and 
opened the piano. He stood there to turn the 
leaves for her, but she would not let him do it, 
and banished him to the arm-chair. Her voice 
had never sounded so intense to him, and she 
had never sung so badly. The lover and the 
artist both responded to it; and passionately he 
envied the composer’s power of communicating 
in a line more than an author could express in a 
thousand words. 

She rose, and leant by the window. He saw 
that she did not wish to speak. The street was 
sinking into silence; the little shops across the 
way slept behind their shutters. She looked up 


174 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

at the sky, remembering vaguely many crises in 
which she had watched the stars — and the stars 
were still unchanged! By no transition her 
thoughts reverted to her father; and the husband 
behind her became a strange man. 


CHAPTER XV 


The popular imagination has been so im- 
pressed by facile pictures of a clown grinning 
through a horse-collar with tears in his eyes, that 
many people have come to regard the career of a 
clown as uniquely poignant. But there are fewer 
clowns than journalists; and while the sorrowing 
clown must cut capers with his legs, the stricken 
journalist must be nimble with his mind, which is 
far more difficult, and doubly cruel. Though 
the screams of a wife in labour shake his pen, he 
mustn’t be late with his leader. A coffin may lie 
in the silent house, but the paper will go to press 
at the usual hour. If the graveyard has numbed 
him in body and brain, he must hammer out that 
column of Notes and Comments before the 
pillar-box is cleared. In grief or in joy, on a sick- 
bed or on a honeymoon, the first duty of a jour- 
nalist is to post his copy in time; and after break- 
fast on the morrow Lingham had to wrestle with 


176 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

his canserie, though he had never attacked it 
with more reluctance. 

Meenie watched her lord with reverent eyes, 
and when he bit the penholder, and stared dis- 
consolately at the ceiling, her heart ached for 
him. In the circumstances it was not to be ex- 
pected that he would progress very rapidly, and 
there were several interludes of the David and 
Dora type. After lunch they went on the boule- 
vards, and bought the Chronicle, and a lot of 
French newspapers — it surprised her to find 
what a lot of French newspapers he had to skim 
— and in the evening they witnessed a dreary 
show at Olympia. 

The cooking of Madame Goigoux was not 
‘‘ phenomenal,” but it was satisfactory, and they 
had no reason to complain of their arrangement 
as the days passed. By degrees the sense of 
strangeness wore from the perpetual tete-a-tete; 
the man found it possible to write without turn- 
ing his head every other minute to see if his wife 
looked comfortable, and Meenie was able to ap- 
preciate more of their library than the titles. 

Of course, she appreciated nothing so warmly 
as Lingham’s copy for The Other Side. That 
was devotion. It savoured of the miraculous to 
her when he wrote, “ The incident reminds one 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

of,” an anecdote that was much brighter than 
the incident itself, and threw in an epigram which 
somebody who died a hundred years ago seemed 
to have made on purpose to fit the situation. 
What if the paragraph did take an hour and a half 
to produce? She could not have done it herself 
in a lifetime! Her opportunities while he 
worked were when he was doubtful of the epi- 
gram, and she could run to the shelves and pull 
down the book that he wanted to refer to. And 
when she read, “ But those behind the scenes are 
smiling at the rumour,” she was quite sure the 
editor of the journal must think his correspon- 
dent was a member of the best clubs, and an 
habitue of all the green-rooms. 

When the new year was a fortnight old Ling- 
ham began seriously to consider the dramatiza- 
tion of Angela Brown, Publisher. The project 
was infinitely more fascinating to Meenie than 
his journalism, for it had been born of her sug- 
gestion, and, better still, they could discuss the 
scenario together. 

It was discussed for many days. More than 
once the lamp died out while they sat talking 
over the difficulties, and they were plunged in 
darkness. It was pathetic to realize how many 
of the best scenes in the book must be sacrificed 


178 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

for dramatic form, and dizzying to discover that 
he was compelled to lay a whole act in Angela's 
office. 

I don’t know how to bring anybody in 
there after the hero has gone,” he said; and 
I’m bound to show that office! What does 
everybody come for? The entire cast can’t have 
written novels? ... Of course, nine tenths of 
the dialogue about literary life must be cut out 
for the theatre. I must just explain how Angela 
comes to have the business, and what kind of 
girl she is, and then stick to the story.” 

It might — No, that wouldn’t do,” said 
Meenie. 

What were you going to say? ” 

I was going to say it might be her birthday; 
that’s why the others come.” 

Well, she has a home; she wouldn’t give a 
party in her office.” 

‘‘ No, I thought of that as I spoke; her birth- 
day is no good. . . . Supposing — no, that 
wouldn’t do either! ” 

He pulled at his pipe, and mused heavily: 

“ Well, it’s quite certain that a way must be 
found to bring some people in there,” he said at 
last, in a slightly injured tone; she and the hero 
can’t jaw over his infernal manuscript for a whole 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I79 

act! . . . Wait, wait, wait! I’ve got it. I’ve got 
it! Don’t talk to me — I’ve got it, and it’ll go! ” 

Ab uno disce omnes. There were evenings 
when they gazed at each other despairingly, and 
others when the wits of both were nimble, and 
obstacles fell like ninepins. She could not write 
three lines — she tried once for fun — but occa- 
sionally, as she came to have an inkling of con- 
struction, she would vault a hedge, or dart to a 
hole in it, more quickly than he. 

Nevertheless, he had an eye for essentials. 
Staggering as the task was at times, he found 
he was accomplishing a scenario which looked 
workmanlike with greater speed than he would 
have expected of himself, considering the toil 
and tribulation inflicted by The Other Side. It 
was the scenario — the skeleton of the thing — that 
was his chief anxiety; of his dialogue he wasn’t 
much afraid. He worked so indefatigably that a 
bride less interested in his pursuits might have 
felt neglected. The girl told him once that a 
pen was never out of his hand except when he 
was rustling the daily supply of French news- 
papers. He drew her close, and answered, “ Be- 
cause I want to make money for Meenie! ” But 
he took her to the Palais de Glace that night, not 
quite sure that he hadn’t been a brute. 


l80 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


When its last bone was fitted and polished, 
the skeleton was packed up, and its creator trem- 
bled for it as he had not trembled yet, for it was 
going to London to be judged by an expert. 
And he had grown to love the skeleton. He ad- 
dressed it to Spencer Parlett, Esquire,” and 
enclosed a letter saying he wanted to hear the 
truth. 

Let it be understood that Spencer Parlett 
was a popular dramatic author, and it is redun- 
dant to add that he was a friend, for popular dra- 
matic authors do not read manuscripts to oblige 
acquaintances. He was, as a matter of fact, 
Lingham's familiar friend, and one of the small 
minority who believed him to be a novelist of 
uncommon power. The belief was older than 
the friendship. Though they had never collab- 
orated, Lingham had learnt more of stagecraft 
from their intimacy than he had suspected until 
the last few weeks; and he had learnt enough to 
know the folly of proceeding further with the 
structure if the framework was malformed. But, 
again, he loved the skeleton; he awaited the reply 
with nervousness. 

It came four evenings later. Meenie tip-toed 
to read it over his shoulder, but ’twas scrawled 
in pencil, and Parlett wrote a devilish hand. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW l8l 


Lingham read aloud, but slowly, and muttered 
criticisms which were not in the note. Fully 
twenty minutes had gone by before he grasped 
the sense of the whole, and even then there re- 
mained one or two words which he could only 
guess at: 

My dear Benedict: How is it possible 
that people possessed of such magnificence in 
fiction can envy me my humble cottage on the 
stage? Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to 
have a competitory pal. So I have nursed a 
viper on my hearth only that he may pluck the 
fees from a struggling playwright’s purse! Go 
ahead, dear boy; I think it ought to ' come out ’ 
excellently. Yours ever, S. P.” 

‘‘ He is a very good chap,” observed Ling- 
ham, glowing; I’m very fond of Parlett! ‘ Ex- 
cellently,’ eh? He couldn’t say much more, 
could he? Meenie, if this makes our fortune, it 
will be your doing. I should never have started 
it but for you. Who knows? it may be a colossal 
success; we might make — ” His brain swam. 

Parlett has made about thirty thousand pounds 
out of The Power of the Purse since it was writ- 
ten. A big success in the theatre is an income for 


1 82 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

life. Oh, my dear, I should love to get you 
swagger frocks, and diamonds, and buy you a 
carriage! You would look so fetching in a vic- 
toria! ’’ 

Goose!” she said, seeing herself in it. 

What is Parlett like? Is he young? How jolly 
it must be to meet famous people! ” 

I don’t meet many. Young? Well, he 
isn’t so young as he was, or as he feels. He has 
done a lot of things in collaboration, you know, 
and when he first worked with other men he al- 
ways used to make ' the old man ’ in his come- 
dies fifty — ' an enfeebled dotard of fifty.’ Then, 
as time went on, Parlett began to resent it when a 
‘collaborator wrote ' an old man — fifty.’ He used 
to say: ‘ Not fifty, my dear fellow — fifty is ridicu- 
lous! Let us make him fifty-five.’ And for 
a while ‘ the old man ’ in Parlett’s comedies was 
always fifty-five. But everything is relative; to- 
day he always pleads for him to be sixty. It’s 
becoming very difficult for his collaborators! 
He says: ‘ In my plays fifty is the heyday — my 
favourite age. Very soon the gallant boy of fifty 
will be my hero! ’ ” 

He wrote the first line of the dialogue the 
next morning. After the encouragement he had 
received, how could he hesitate? For all that, he 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 83 

recognised that the vocation had its risk; no 
matter how good the piece might prove, it would 
be a property for which he had to find a market ; 
whereas, if he sat down to a novel instead, he 
would be producing something for which his 
market was already made. They had often dis- 
cussed the point, and once during the morning 
he turned to her with it again; 

“ It’s a slower job than I thought it would 
be,” he exclaimed. “ I can’t write at the Parlett 
rate! I believe I’m mad, after all, to devote 
months to an experiment. Suppose the time is 
thrown away? Suppose I never get the thing 
accepted? I’m not in a position to try my hand 
at a new game! ” 

He did not know it, but beneath the irrita- 
tion in his voice there was the plaintive ring of 
one who hopes he will be contradicted. Instinct 
set her reply in the right key. 

“ The experiment has been made,” she said 
promptly. “ We never feared for your dialogue, 
only for your construction. That is done — and 
praised ! ” 

He looked happier; the irritation of his tone 
was less marked. 

“ Praised by somebody who hasn’t got a the- 
atre! ” he argued. “ Parlett’s praise won’t put 


1 84 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

the piece on the stage when it is finished. If I 
were getting ninety francs a week from the paper 
I wouldn't mind; but we're eating up our capital. 
How long will it last? I never could do arith- 
metic! " 

‘‘Ages!" she returned. “And your book 
will be out directly; there will be more money 
to come from that! " 

“ It mayn't be much, and it may not come in 
time." 

“ Some of it," she persisted, “ is bound tS 
come in time. There are your Continental 
rights." 

He smiled. “ You’re a delightful little busi- 
ness woman! You remember, do you? " 

“ Oh, I remember. I ask for information — 
like Rosa Dartle — and when it's given, I don't 
forget. Besides " — she leant over him with a 
master-stroke — “ you zvotild be wasting time if 
you put the comedy aside now. Your head is 
full of it, and you could no more think out a plot 
for a new novel while your brain is bubbling with 
something else than I could. You would do just 
nothing! " 

The truth of this settled the doubt once and 
for all, and he plunged into the work chin-deep. 
They paid Madame Goigoux a franc a week 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 85 

extra, because sometimes he burnt the lamp half 
the night now. Happy amendments often 
flashed on him after he was in bed; and then at 
breakfast he sat tortured, straining to recall 
them, and jumped when a spoon clinked. He 
hooked a pencil and pad on the wall over his 
pillow, and would heave in the dark, and scratch 
memoranda just as she was falling asleep. Once, 
when she awoke, she crept from the bedroom to 
see a bowed back and wild hair, and a clock 
pointing to the hour of five. And behold the 
wise woman! She did not say, “ Do you know 
the time, dear? ” She noted that the pen flew 
fast, and, holding her breath, stole back so cau- 
tiously that he never guessed he had been over- 
looked. Verily when an author can approve his 
wife, she was deserving of a better fate! 


CHAPTER XVI 


The winter passed, and, on the boulevards, 
the buds and the chairs came out, while he 
worked at the comedy; and in the blaze of sum- 
mer he was still scribbling and declaiming at the 
second table, for a dramatist can no more write 
dialogue in silence than an actor can study a 
part sitting down. Parlett had returned the 
scenario at the end of February; when the post- 
man delivered to the author two typewritten 
copies of the piece the end of July was near. 
Very attractive the four acts looked, with their 
red-ruled margins and their pink bows. It was 
almost as pleasant to toy with them as it had 
been in April to receive the six free copies of the 
novel Dedicated to my Wife.” What play- 
wright in his novitiate would have demurred 
when the girl he thought prettiest declared that 
the carbon copy of Angela Brown, Publisher, 
must be bound in cloth for her own shelf? Not 

i86 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 8 / 

Lingham, though it had been ordered lest the 
other went astray in its adventures. 

They commenced briskly; the piece was sub- 
mitted to the Pall Mall Theatre — where the 
actor-manager's wife was the leading lady — and 
after a week of comparative idleness Ralph be- 
gan to revolve another book. The reviews of 
the last were as excellent as usual. Often when 
Meenie had torn open the exciting green wrap- 
pers, and devoured the cuttings that were en- 
closed, there seemed to her a touch of unreality 
in the situation. She contemplated his pecun- 
iary position in amaze. ‘‘ Mr. Lingham " in the 
criticisms sounded so successful, so secure; he 
sounded so aloof from the herd that struggled. If 
she had read criticisms of his work before she 
met him, in how different an environment she 
would have pictured ‘‘Mr. Lingham"! Surely 
the critics themselves would gasp to learn what 
his capital was. 

His gossip for the paper was now at its best. 
At the onset it had been a trifle rigid, though 
never so bad as he had thought it. During the 
period of his immersion in the comedy it had be- 
come a shade careless'. To-day he was beyond 
question worth his salary, so there was no moral 
to be adduced from the thing that happened. He 


1 88 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


was dismissed. He was to be supplanted by the 
proprietor's nephew, for whom the proprietor's 
daughter felt a more than cousinly interest. Of 
course, Ralph did not hear that; he merely re- 
ceived a vague and courteous note. An editor 
‘‘regrets" mechanically; he “regrets" that he 
can not make use of a story that he does not like; 
he “ regrets " that the manuscript he has kept 
for a year has not appeared yet, when he apprises 
the contributor that it will be paid for on the 
thirtieth day of the second month after publica- 
tion; and the editor of The Other Side regretted 
to inform Mr. Lingham that arrangements were 
being made which would prevent their retaining 
his services later than the 3d proximo. 

The loss of two guineas a week could scarcely 
have been a greater shock to anybody. The bolt 
fell from the blue of August, and now the corre- 
spondent's capital was about thirty-five pounds. 
He had often had considerably less, and es- 
teemed himself well provided for; but then he 
had been a bachelor. Thirty-five pounds, a com- 
edy likely to be rejected at the Pall Mall, and an 
inchoate novel in his head. And he had a wife to 
keep! He smoked hard. 

“ How long do you reckon the novel will 
take to write? " she asked, rallying. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 1 89 

‘‘ Nine months, Fm afraid; Tve never been 
able to write one more quickly yet. Of course, 
if the last has sold decently, we can jog along for 
nine months — there will be royalties to come to 
us in October. But if it hasn't, I don't see at the 
moment — what we are going to do. It evidently 
hasn't been a boom. . . . Still, we won't howl 
yet! I must tear the plot out as soon as I can, 
and we'll listen to the flattering tale of hope. 
• . . Well, I suppose we had better go back to 
London, eh, pard? Nobody wants us here." 

“ There seems nothing to stay for," she as- 
sented, slowly. Till then she had not recognised 
the fact, and the crash reverberated. 

Nothing! Besides, in London I can bustle 
about Angela — and save the difference between 
the postage rates! A penny saved is something 
— proverbial." 

“ Yes, of course," she said; now the play is 
done, you ought to be on the spot. And you 
might get on another paper there." 

I don’t think there is much chance of that 
— The Other Side was a sheer fluke. I might 
make the attempt, but you could throw a net in 
Fleet Street and catch a haul of better journal- 
ists than I am with your eyes shut; and all in 
deep waters! " 

13 


190 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

We shall manage/’ she said. ‘‘ As soon as 
we get back, I shall try for a town engagement. 
If I get thirty shillings a week, it will be a help.” 

Lingham burnt his fingers with a match. 
‘‘ You will what? ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Good God! 
I wouldn’t let you go on the stage again for any 
money that could be named. No, my love, /’ll 
find the bread and butter, thank you, if I have to 
kill an editor to do it. The action would be 
twice blessed! If I were a potentate, I would 
send out emissaries to collect editors, and then I 
would make a bonfire of them in my park! ” 

If I could get thirty shillings a week in 
town, look what it would mean to us,” she per- 
sisted. ‘‘ There are heaps of married women in 
the chorus, Ralph; and nice women, too.” 

‘‘Yes, I dare say. I’ve no doubt there are 
plenty of women on the stage whose husbands 
are content never to do a stroke of work. ‘ The 
husband of Milly de Vere’! /’m not in that 
galley. Don’t be silly, baby! At the worst I’ll 
go to Alport, and ask him to advance fifty 
pounds on the first few chapters. Where there’s 
a wife, there’s a way. Thank goodness, there are 
only two of us to think about ! ” 

After this they bought the Telegraph every 
evening, and scanned the columns headed 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I9I 

'' Board and Apartments to be Let/’ The heat 
was intense now, and though they were sorry to 
say good-bye ” to Paris, they were not so acute- 
ly sorry as they would have been three months 
earlier. As the jar of the news subsided, they re- 
gained their cheerfulness. Only Madame Goi- 
goux was inconsolable. She protested that she 
should never forget them; and if they ever 
wanted the rooms again — c’est que ge me ren- 
dait contente — mais contente!” But one line, 
and they should be ready ; yes, even though they 
were let to ‘‘ un avantage incroyable! ” 

When their plans crystallized, they decided 
to go into a boarding-house for a few days, while 
they looked for lodgings. On the evening before 
they crossed they spent ten francs. They 
couldn’t afford it, but it was their last night in 
Paris; and they would store another memory! 
They went to the ambassadeurs, and drank iced 
sirups under the trees; and then they took their 
farewell stroll along the boulevards, and siphons 
made music for them again outside the Cafe de la 
Paix. But who admits that he bids '' farewell ” 
to Paris? We shall often come back,” they said, 
as they sat there; very likely we shall run over 
soon!” And then, as they passed the shining 
courtyard of the Grand: Perhaps Angela will 


192 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

make thousands for us. We may come over in 
the spring, and stay at the Grand! ” 

It was hot in London, too, when they arrived, 
though cooler than it had been in Paris. After 
the Swiss youth had handed around the coffee, 
they left the boarding-house and walked down 
Bedford Place. The moon looked the same as 
it had done the night before. They would have 
felt less sad if it had looked different. They were 
very lonely in the long, gaunt streets. They had 
come home, but they were homesick.” A re- 
gret which each strove to hide from the other 
filled the man with forebodings, and brought a 
lump to the girl's throat. How colourless every- 
thing was! She had noticed it in the drive from 
Victoria. The grim frontages, the flat, flat win- 
dows, the dreary faces of the people moving in 
the half-lit streets reminded her of the comments 
of Le Beau. Dear little salon in La Rue Ponce- 
let! There would be no lamp in it to-night; it 
was standing empty and dark! 

At the dressing-table of the bedroom it was 
almost impossible for Lingham to work, and 
time pressed, so they made haste to seek more 
permanent quarters. The gentility of the adver- 
tisers in the Telegraph, which forbade them to 
cite their terms, intensified the difficulty of dis- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I93 

covering suitable lodgings at a satisfactory rent, 
and moderate ’’ in London proved to be quite 
as deceptive as ‘‘ charming had been in Paris. 
He and Meenie had agreed that they would be 
wise to ring bells within walking distance, in- 
stead of paying fares to make inquiries in Clap- 
ham and Shepherd’s Bush, and eventually they 
rang one in Gower Street. 

The arrangement proposed here was on much 
the same lines as the one they had had with 
Madame 'Goigoux, only they were to take their 
meals in the landlady’s room. They did not ob- 
ject to the suggestion at all, for it would avert 
the rattling of cutlery over Lingham while he 
was trying to write. She was a rather pretty 
little brunette, smartly dressed, and pediaps just 
touched with rouge. They understood her 
name to be Mrs. Kisch, but, being an Hungarian, 
she spelt it '' Kiss.” Her English, though it 
lacked adverbs, was fluent, and she explained 
with animation that she would accept three 
pounds ten a week inclusive, because she was 
trying to dispose of the business, and did not 
want her apartments to be vacant just now. 

They moved in at once, and occupied two 
communicating rooms on the first floor. Cer- 
tainly the construction was ridiculous; the 


194 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

sitting-room was so small that they had to 
squeeze round the table, while the bedroom, 
overlooking back gardens, was as wide as the 
house, with three long windows; but for Gower 
Street the terms were extremely low. 

When they went down to dinner on the first 
evening they found Mrs. Kiss dispensing the 
whiting in a low-necked gown, and a miniature 
man, whom they seemed to be viewing through 
the wrong end of an opera-glass, prepared to take 
her to the theatre. His name was Friedman, 
they learnt; and on the morrow Mrs. Kiss con- 
fided to Meenie that she was going to be married 
to him, and that his parents, who lived in Ham- 
burg, thought it very wrong for him to be lodg- 
ing here in the meanwhile. She hoped, with ap- 
pealing eyes, that Meenie did not think so too? 
The poor fellow was a stranger in London, and 
she was '' so dreadful sorry for him! Emmie, 
the housemaid, subsequently implied a different 
story, but one should never listen to the gossip 
of servants. 

The day after the incoming, Ralph called on 
his publishers, to ascertain how much money he 
was likely to receive the following month. To 
his dismay he learnt that the sale of the book had 
so disappointed the firm that they were out of 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW I95 

pocket by the hundred pounds which had been 
paid to him on account. The fate of the piece at 
the Pall Mall was, therefore, an urgent matter, 
and as soon as he returned he wrote to the man- 
ager giving him the new address, and inquiring if 
he had had time to read it yet. The question 
remained unanswered, but the next afternoon 
the four attractive acts with pink bows came 
back. 

Evidently, said Meenie, he had not read 
them. She packed them up again without loss of 
time, and they were despatched to the Sover- 
eignty. 

There was a little furrow on the girl's brow 
that night when she went down to dinner, and 
the man looked thoughtful. Mrs. Kiss was 
decked with flowers which Mr. Friedman had 
sent home to console her for his detention in the 
city ; and she told them, in her pretty, artless way, 
that her claret came from a friend in the trade, 
and she could let them have it at a shilling a 
bottle if they liked, but that they mustn't men- 
tion the price they were paying, because she 
charged her lover one and nine. After the claret 
Ralph drove a recalcitrant pen. 

The circumstances were not favourable to the 
invention of a plot. The knowledge that they 


196 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

would have spent their last pound in about six 
weeks, unless something unexpected happened, 
was not stimulating to the imagination. The 
opening chapter of the indeterminate novel was 
progressing by such painful steps that he 
couldn't help dwelling more on the comedy that 
was finished than on the task which had to be 
done. He had never commenced a story hitherto 
until the scheme was clear in his mind; and to 
make people talk before he was certain what 
roles they were going to play affrighted him. 
From Bedford Place he had forwarded Meenie's 
copy of Angela Brown to Parlett, and he was 
eager to have his opinion of it now that the man- 
uscript was complete. The following morning 
he betook himself to his friend's to be encour- 
aged. 


CHAPTER XVII 

Parlett lived in Belsize Avenue. He had 
made a fortune by his plays, and spent it. To- 
day he was making a large income, and spent 
that. His coupe was as smart a little equipage 
as could be built; his horses were the envy of his 
neighbours, and his coachman did such credit to 
the livery that, though he always failed to find 
the stage doors, and met remonstrance by the 
retort that he had been used to driving in Bel- 
gravia, the dramatist hadn’t the courage to dis- 
charge him. 

The house servants were all feminine; and 
so trim and -neat were they, so immaculately was 
the silver kept, and so blooming were the win- 
dow-boxes, that no stranger would have believed 
it to be a bachelor’s residence. When the par- 
lour-maid admitted Ralph, she exclaimed: 

“ Oh, Mr. Lingham, sir, you are a stranger! 
Master’s in the study being shaved. He’ll be so 
pleased you have come! ” 


197 


198 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

How is he, Annie? he asked. 

She shook her cap dolefully. ‘‘ Dr. Hutton 
is in there; he calls just the same, sir. Master’s 
been very bad lately.” 

Parlett was seated in a chair with a towel 
round his neck, and while the hair-dresser’s as- 
sistant trimmed his beard, the medical man was 
listening sympathetically to an account of his 
dyspepsia. He had listened to it once or twice a 
week for ten years. At Lingham’s entrance he 
looked relieved. The playwright tendered a 
languid hand — which contrasted oddly with the 
pleasure in his eyes — and began to put ques- 
tions. He had a habit of referring to intimate 
matters before strangers as freely as the lady 
who couldn’t regard a servant as a man and ad- 
mitted the flunkey to her bath-room; some of 
his inquiries, especially those he made after 
the doctor had taken his departure, were dis- 
composing. 

However, he thought well of Angela Brown, 
Publisher, and that was a huge relief. 

What have you done with it? ” he asked. 

It’s at the Sovereignty now; it came back 
from the Pall Mall the other day. Do you think 
I shall place it? ” 

‘‘ Ask me another! ” said the man of experi- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O^ THE WINDOW I99 

ence. ‘‘ What’s the good of writing a play with- 
out a commission anyhow? All these theatres 
have got their arrangements made for two or 
three years ahead. You want to be in the swim 
to place a play.” One of his mannerisms was to 
emphasize words in falsetto. ‘‘ If you aren’t in 
the swim, you’ve got to dodge about, and find 
out where there’s a hitchy and jump in where 
there’s a failure. You can’t place a play, as you 
can a novel, through the post, . . . Good-bye, 
Sweeney Tod.” 

‘‘ What did you advise me to write it for, 
then? ” said Lingham. 

‘‘ Oh, don’t be a fool! ” replied Parlett. If 
I had choked you off, what would you have said? 
You would always have reproached me. You 
would have said: ‘ It might have been a great 
success, and you wouldn’t let me write it.’ ” 

'' Rot! ” returned Lingham sourly. Well, 
how are you? ” 

Parlett banged himself in the stomach: ‘‘ I’m 
swollen,” he said, swollen! As soon as I eat I 
get big. Look at my waistcoat — I can’t get a 
finger under it! It hung on me when I came 
down this morning. Nobody knows what agony 
I’m in; my life is a curse! I’ve a comic opera to 
deliver directly, and not half of it is done. The 


200 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

company is engaged, the composer is waiting 
for the lyrics, and I can't write, I can't thinkl 
How can I work when I'm in pain all day? . . . 
You don't suffer from dyspepsia, do you? " 

Lingham shook his head. ‘‘ Not from that! " 
Parlett looked disappointed. I don't 
know," he said with a groan, I don't know what 
will be the end. I see nothing before me. When 
a man's health is gone, he's ruined. I shall die in 
the workhouse! My God, I shall die in the 
workhouse! There's nothing to smile at. Here's 
a bill for — for five pounds come in; I shall never 
make five pounds again! It's a very serious state 
of things, boy! It's all right for you — your ex- 
penses aren't like mine. I paid Bird a hundred 
pounds yesterday. It's a lot of money! " 

What Bird? Your collaborator? " 

Yes, the piece I did with him is running in 
New York now; I got a draft for two hundred 
the other day for fees. I paid Bird a hundred 
pounds yesterday." 

You mean that his work paid him. In 
other words, you and he have been having a jolly 
good week together! " 

I paid Bird a hundred pounds yesterday," 
reiterated Parlett, sunk in gloom. It's all right 
for you; yours is an ideal existence! " 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 201 


Lingham did not speak. 

“ An ideal existence ! In nice lodgings, with 
a little wife to talk to in the evening — beautiful! 
Bohemian! I can’t afford to marry. I see no- 
body, I go nowhere; I haven’t been to the Cafe 
Royal for a month.” From the falsetto his voice 
dropped to a deep, declamatory pathos. “ I sit 
here alone at night, Ralph, in this great silent 
house, with the wind wailing in the chimney, and 
I think that I would give all my miserable life to 
know, but for one hour, the joy of health and 
love.” His arm, extended in a dramatic gesture, 
remained outstretched; it was evident that his 
words had recalled a pleasanter theme to his 
mind. A smile lit his face; in an instant he was a 
lad, eager, delightful. “ Let me read you a lyric 
I’ve written for the opera! ” he exclaimed, bus- 
tling: “‘O joy of love, O love avowed!’ — I 
want to hear what you think.” 

He showered manuscripts all over the desk, 
but could not see the one he was seeking. The 
parlour-maid, and then a lady stenographer, were 
summoned to hunt for it, and at last it was found 
in a pocket in his bedroom. 

Like Lingham, he was passionately fond of 
music, but had neither a musical ear nor a note 
in his voice. He chanted the lyric in a discor- 


202 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

dant quaver, which he believed to be the com- 
poser’s setting. 

When he finished, he raised a questioning 
gaze. 

The lines are very pretty, indeed. How 
about the dialogue — is that good? ” 

‘‘ ‘ O joy of love, O love avowed! ’ — see how 
they open the mouth! Wait a minute! I must 
read you my patriotic song. I haven’t done the 
second verse yet; this is the first: 

“ ‘ We have sung to the peril and pluck of the tar, 

And we’ve toasted our Tommy in red, 

But it’s women who make them the men that they are, 
And now here’s to “ Our Women ” instead ! 

Oh, it’s well that Old England should ring with a lay 
To the heroes who carry her guns ; 

But let's gather a spray of the laurel and bay 
For the women who give her the sons ! * 

Now comes the refrain: 

“ * For the Women of England, 

And all the land ! 

To the Women of England, 

Our hat in hand ! 

For they’re loyal and they're game, 

And they build their boys the same ; 

It's our women make the little island grand ! ' " 

‘‘ I don’t like ' Our hat in hand,’ ” said Ling- 
ham. 

Parlett, who was red in the face, for he had 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 203 

imagined himself the barytone, and been acting 
the song as well as shouting it, made a cross 
against the ^ line. The almost childish humility 
with which he accepted anybody’s criticism of his 
work and his faults was one erf his most lovable 
traits. 

'' It isn’t good,” he owned, '' but I couldn’t 
find a better rhyme to ‘ land ’ and ‘ grand.’ I 
think that ought to be an encore, eh? The 
women will like that. ' It’s our women make 
the little island grand! ’ ” he shouted again. 

I had an idea for a lyric the other day,” said 
Lingham, ‘‘ only I don’t write comic operas. 
The heroine’s sweetheart is a sailor, and she sings 
to one of those spiral shells: 

** * O silver shell from the something shore 
With the roar of the sea inside you ! ’ 

She holds it to her ear, and wonders how her gal- 
lant William fares, and whether there’s a storm, 
you know.” 

“ It would look rather as if she’d got an ear- 
trumpet up, wouldn’t it? ” said Parlett doubt- 
fully. “ How do you like my title, ‘ A Ring o’ 
Roses ’ ? I use the nursery rhyme : 

“ ‘ A ring, a ring o’ roses, 

A pocketful of posies, 

Atishoo ! Atishoo ! 

We all fall down.* 


204 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


All the girls fall into the pages’ arms. That’s 
going to be a big number. Vanderhoff has got 
some new effect in the orchestra for the sneeze.” 

Where is this masterpiece to be pro- 
duced? ” 

'' Liverpool, my boy, in November — if I ever 
get through! Well, tell me about yourself. 
When am I going to see your wife? ” 

‘‘ Come to see us as soon as you can.” 

‘‘ I never go cried Parlett,'^ I never have 
time to go out! I haven’t seen my horses for a 
week; they’re eating their heads off. That 
damned coachman has just had the stables done 
up, too; I told him to have his rooms put right. 
My God, he’s had his parlour papered in pink and 
gold! I can never pay for it! Here I am, a swoll- 
en, helpless wreck, toiling till three in the morn- 
ing to meet my taxes — to meet my taxes, Ralph ! 
— and the coachman has his parlour papered in 
pink and gold! Oh, it’s cruel, it’s cruel, it’s 
cruel! it’s heart-breaking!” He clasped his 
hands, and gibbered over them. 

'' If you never see your horses, and you’re so 
hard up, why not sell them? ” suggested Ling- 
ham. 

I never sold a horse, or a dog, in my life. 
Will you bring her to lunch to-day — your wife, I 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 205 

mean? I wonder whether Tm lunching at home. 
Where's Annie? " 

In five years' intimate acquaintance Lingham 
had never seen him ring a bell, and now he went 
to the top of the kitchen stairs to inquire whether 
he was expected to lunch at home. His lunch- 
eons, which he generally took at restaurants, 
were in truth his dinners, for at seven o'clock he 
sat down to work, and a heavy meal in the even- 
ing would have made him lazy. 

He learnt that overnight he had expressed 
the intention of lunching out to-day unless it 
rained, and he immediately begged Ralph to 
bring his wife to Dolibo's. Though Lingham 
was afraid that Meenie would feel misgivings 
about her costume, he consented, and Parlett 
telephoned to the stables that the victoria was to 
come round at once. Annie, as usual, buttoned 
his boots. 

They drove to Gower Street together with 
A ngela on the front seat, and Lingham was proud 
to see the impression that Meenie created as 
soon as she recovered from her surprise. Parlett 
was prepared to rave about any woman at sight, 
but this was evidently more than transient ap- 
proval. With the sitting-room abounding in de- 
fects — boards that started under the foot, and 


14 


2o6 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 

let off reports like the crack of a rifle; a table that 
groaned when one wrote at it — he was charmed. 
The girl who did not know him thought he was 
carrying courtesy too far when he declared en- 
viously that here his ideas would flow like wine 
from a cask. But while he spoke he was quite 
sincere, and honestly believed that his library, 
and his horses, and his house, and all the luxuries 
that he was slaving and ruining his health to re- 
tain, were worthless to him. 

From the restaurant he insisted on their re- 
turning to Belsize Avenue to tea, and when they 
entered they found Mr. Vanderhofif awaiting 
him. It was an exciting experience to her to 
loll in Spencer Parlett^s' drawing-room and listen 
to Albert Vanderhofif strumming snatches of his 
operas. She smiled in contrasting the situation 
with the way she might have met them both a 
year ago. With what awe she would have ad- 
dressed them then! And Albert Vanderhofif 
passed the cake to her! They were quite simple, 
quite like anybody else. 

She wondered if Parlett knew that she had 
been “ in the profession,'’ but presently he asked 
her if she sang, and she understood that Ling- 
ham had not told him. 

Yes,” she said; but not here! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 20/ 

He burlesqued an attitude of deprecation. 
Vanderhoff could do no less than offer to accom- 
pany her; and as Lingham evidently wished her 
to accede, she went to the piano. The Moselle 
cup at Dolibo’s had been good, and she was ex- 
hilarated by her social success. When the com- 
poser asked her what she would sing, she had the 
courage to name a ballad out of his and Parlett’s 
Flo de Cologne. Instantly he was all attention, 
and Parlett, who justly believed that ballad to 
contain the best love verses he had ever written, 
looked as interested as a child at the pantomime. 

She had quite a triumph, even after she al- 
lowed a discount for politeness. Vanderhoff 
paid her compliments in his foreign English, and 
Parlett, who, of course, regarded her from the 
standpoint of the librettist, waxed enthusiastic. 

But, my boy, my boy,” he cried to Ling- 
ham, “ the feeling, the sentiment ! And every 
word tells — she gives every word its value\ It’s 
a pleasure to hear her, it’s a delight! She ought 
to have been on the stage! — What do you say, 
Albert? Wouldn’t she have made a career? 
wouldn’t she have been a treat to write for? ” 

Vanderhoff admitted that madame had a very 
sympathetic voice. 

But she’s an actress!” He turned to 


208 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 


Meenie. You don’t know that; I watched your 
face! You speak with your face. You’re very 
clever, you’re an artist; you’ve got it here! ” 

‘‘ My wife has been on the stage,” murmured 
Lingham; but not for long; only for a year or 
two.” 

Aha! ” Parlett spread his arms, as one who 
says, Behold my intuition! ” 

I never did any good,” laughed Meenie; 
the other people didn’t agree with you! ” 

He tapped his chest, and held up three fin- 
gers. ‘‘Three!” he said; “three women I’ve 
brought to the front out of the ranks. That’s my 
gift; it’s a peculiar gift of mine. I can see an 
extra girl cross the stage, and spot it if she has 
talent. It’s a wonderful faculty I have. — Do you 
know that, Ralph? Not many men have got it. 
It’s a very highly developed nervous sensibility. 
I respond. Just in the same way I have an ex- 
traordinary power of communicating emotion. — 
Do you know that, Albert? It’s inborn. You 
can’t acquire it. It astonishes people.” 

At this point Mr. Vanderhoff, who, being a 
musician, had his own vanities, struck loud 
chords to call attention to himself, and with pro- 
found emotion, but a small voice, sang another 
of his compositions. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 209 

Though Lingham and Meenie soon rose to 
go, it was he who left first. The dramatist had 
five minutes’ conference with him in the hall; 
then, returning to the room, was seized with a 
desire to take a stroll before he went to his desk. 

In the warm twilight the three sauntered to 
the heath. Already he appeared to her a mass of 
contradictions, and now if she had been unmar- 
ried the girl would have allowed herself to fall in 
love with him. The ardour with which he spoke 
of other men’s work, and the modesty with which 
he judged his own, was startling; she thought at 
first he must be in jest. The poetry in the man, 
his enthusiasms, made his companionship in 
some of his moods ideal. Far more widely read 
than many who posed as apostles of culture, he 
seemed to her to be steeped in the literature of 
the world; yet withal he was a boy. When he 
quoted, it was never the delivery of a scholar be- 
ing instructive, but the leaping utterance of an 
artist, young, fervent, Bohemian, glowing at the 
city from an attic window, with a pen and a brave 
heart. 

To talk to him often stimulated Lingham. It 
stimulated him this evening. When they got 
back to the lodging, he made a dash at the diffi- 
culties of Chapter I, and completed it to his satis- 


210 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


faction before he went to bed. Moreover, he de- 
cided to ask the publishers for an advance of fifty 
pounds immediately. Why wait? It would be a 
distasteful errand, but there was small doubt that 
it would have to be accomplished sooner or later, 
and the knowledge of being secure for a few 
months would be fortifying. 

“ Though even fifty pounds,” he said, “ won’t 
keep us going till the book is done. With what 
we have left we shall be able to go on for — 
how long, pard? ” 

She was rather worse at arithmetic than he, 
and her pencil never had a point to it. Notice- 
able peculiarities; her pencil never had a point, 
and her purse was always in the pocket of a skirt 
that she hadn’t got on. After ten minutes, how- 
ever, she announced that with an addition of fifty 
pounds they could pay their way for about five 
months. 

“ And in five months,” she said, “ anything 
may happen! Besides, they might let you have 
more if you asked for it.” 

“They have lost money over the last one; 
I don’t think they’d feel inclined to part with a 
hundred again. And then, that was finished 
when I got the hundred. No, I think fifty is all 
I can ask for; I dare say I shall get that.” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 21 1 


One is often sanguine at night. When he 
shaved, he was less confident. He wished that 
he had broached the subject when he called upon 
them earlier in the week; in conversation he 
could have approached it gradually, and now he 
would have to blurt it out. He breakfasted 
without relish, and upstairs Meenie hung about 
him, and wished him luck. 

When he reached the offices of Messrs. Al- 
port & Son, one of the clerks whistled through a 
tube, and requested him to take a seat until Mr. 
Alport, Junior, was disengaged. The father sel- 
dom came to town now. There was a girl with a 
pale face, and a parcel, waiting, too; a beginner, 
tremulous, shabby, full of ideals yet, nursing her 
first novel with unspoken prayers. Presently the 
clerk came back, and said, “ Will you step this 
way, Mr. Lingham? ” and the girl flashed a cu- 
rious glance, half admiration and half envy, as 
the name fell. It was rather piteous. Lingham 
wondered whether she could be much worse off 
than he was. 

Mr. Alport was a man of about Lingham’s 
own age, with the Oxford voice and literary 
tastes. As the girl had envied the novelist, the 
novelist had often envied the publisher; and the 
young man with the money had also his strug- 


212 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


gles. He struggled with a temperament. His 
destiny was to conduct a business on strictly 
commercial lines, and to know that behind his 
back he was abused by writers whom he would 
have been glad to call his friends. 

He offered the author a cigarette, and mo- 
tioned to an arm-chair which was associated in 
his mind with many distressing interviews. 
Lingham cleared his throat. 

‘‘ You didn't expect to see me again so soon, 
Mr. Alport?" he said, balancing his hat on his 
knee. 

Fm always pleased to have a visit from you, 
Mr. Lingham." 

I looked in because Fve a book on the 
stocks. Heaven alone knows whether it will sell, 
but I think it is going to be all right." 

‘‘ Is the brutal middleman to hear what the 
theme is? " 

Yes, I want to talk about it." He gave an 
outline. The tale sounded very bald to him re- 
duced to halting words, but Mr. Alport listened 
attentively, and nodded. 

As you observe," he said, “ only Heaven can 
answer for the public! Of course, it's excellent; 
you get to the heart of things, as you always do. 
I look forward to reading it. If everybody ad- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 21 3 

mired your work as much as I do, Mr. Lingham, 
you would find me — like Angela Brown — an 
ideal publisher.” 

“ Would you care to give me a commission 
to write it? ” asked Lingham, stroking his hat 
the wrong way. 

Mr. Alport winced. He drew a diagram on 
the blotting-pad. 

“ We shall see it, I suppose? ” he said. “ You 
mean to give us the first refusal of it, I hope? ” 
His tone was really a plea to the other not to say 
any more; and Lingham understood it, and 
cursed the poverty that drove him on. 

“ I should like the commission,” he said. 
“ In plain English, I want fifty pounds on the 
signing of the contract. You can’t lose by that! 
If the thing sells well, or not, you are bound to 
get fifty pounds back.” 

To the store of Alport’s painful memories 
the arm-chair had contributed another. He 
shook his head. 

“ When it is finished,” he murmured, “ I 
have very little doubt we shall be able to meet 
your views; you know we have always done our 
best.” 

“ You can’t meet them now, eh? ” 

“ I am afraid not. With every wish to be 


214 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


amiable, I am afraid I can’t. Forgive my saying 
so, but your hand might lose its cunning; the 
plot, after all, is only the peg to hang one’s ideas 
on. If you will bring us the story when it is done, 
Mr. Lingham, you shall have an answer within 
three days.” He rose. '' I trust we shall be able 
to make a better arrangement for you than the 
one you are suggesting.” 

The pale-faced girl was waiting still, and 
again she regarded the author jealously. 

He tramped back in the blaze of noon to 
Gower Street. His wife was at the window; she 
knew that he had failed by the way his figure 
drooped. All the morning she had considered 
his coming home so; all the morning she had 
been chafing her courage to combat his objec- 
tions and to cut the knot. 

It didn’t come off,” he said. Don’t worry, 
darling; we shall get through somehow! ” 

Neither of us is going to worry,” she an- 
swered brightly. It’s just a tangle for a min- 
ute, and if we’re sensible, and chummy, and work 
together, we shall straighten it out. Ralph, you 
must go and ask Mr. Parlett to give me a part in 
his opera. It’s no good saying you won’t; you 
must! You heard what he said; ask him to give 
me a part. When we’re in smooth waters again, 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 21$ 

I’ll give it up if you want me to; I’m not am- 
bitious any more. But I’m not going to sit 
down and see you grow gray with anxiety when 
I can help it. If you don’t go to him, 1 shall! ” 
He kissed her, and told her that the company 
was already formed, and that Parlett wouldn’t 
intrust a part to a novice, even if he were asked ; 
but she stood firm. 

‘‘ Try,” she entreated. 

Meenie,” he exclaimed doggedly, I won’t 
have you go back to the stage! ” 

But it’s necessary! Oh, my dear” — she 
clung to him — is this marriage? is it fair to me? 
You call me your ‘ pard,’ and you won’t let me 
help in our home! It’s the only way; can’t you 
see that it’s the only way? Let us go through 
life hand in hand, dear! ” 

Then he caught her close, but still he refused. 

It isn’t the only way,” he said. “ It sha’n’t 
be the only way! We have over five weeks, and 
I can get money as soon as the book is done. 
Very well, then. I’ll do it in five weeks! If I 
work day and night, if I never eat, if I never 
sleep, I’ll do it in the time, by God! ” 

‘‘ This isn’t marriage,” she stammered. 

‘Ht’s me!” he cried, ungrammatical and 
white. “ Help me, don’t stop me, let me go on! 


2i6 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 

I’ll write as long as I can write. Other men 
could do it — why shouldn’t I? Promise! Give 
me your word you’ll do nothing without my 
consent! ” 

So she promised. But she wondered why 
man’s love and woman’s should be such different 
things. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

A BELL hung outside their door. Mrs. Kiss 
used it to call Emmie downstairs when she was 
wanted. All day long, while he drove his pen, 
that bell pealed through his brain. During five 
weeks it seemed to him that it was never still, for 
when he slept at last it clashed in his dreams. 
To the furious pealing of that accursed bell he 
wrote his novel at the table that groaned and 
squeaked. And because he had sworn never to 
go to bed until he had covered the right number 
of pages, the book was done in time. He praised 
God, and damned the novel. 

It was done! And though it was unworthy 
of him, though he had sacrificed psychology to 
speed, it was not contemptible. He sent it to 
Mr. Alport by express delivery, with a line re- 
minding him of his promise. 

It was done! That he would execrate it for 
his sufferings as long as he should live, that it 
had been brought forth with blood and sweat, 

217 


2I8 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 


that he would never see its cover without shud- 
dering in remembrance, didn’t matter. But he 
winced to know that some of the reviewers 
would sneer at him because he had to earn a liv- 
ing. ‘‘ Mr. Lingham has a shrewd sense of what 
the public wants ” — he knew somebody would 
say that. How easy to disdain other people’s 
necessities! It was onjy by the public favour he 
could-hold his wife. 

In this world nobody is ever in the wrong, as 
his lights display the situation; nobody’s atti- 
tude is ever so indefensible that he isn’t perfectly 
justified according to his own view. And no 
marriage service can make man and woman’s 
standpoints one. Meenie had suffered also dur- 
ing these five weeks. She had been condemned 
to watch the husband she loved struggling with 
a task that strained him to the edge of collapse, 
because he was too proud to accept her aid, and 
she felt that, for once, he had been small. Ling- 
ham felt that he was taking the only manly 
course. The thought of allowing his wife to re- 
turn to the burlesque stage — of weathering a 
storm by means of her voice and her short skirts 
— horrified him. Quite naturally he harped on 
the short skirts; they were tangible, a legitimate 
grievance. But as no one is ever wrong to him- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 219 

self, SO no one is ever quite candid. He shrank 
from more than her wearing short skirts; he 
shrank from doffing his own plumes. It is much 
easier to make a present gracefully than to ac- 
cept one well; far easier to lend with cordiality 
than to borrow without embarrassment. The 
great soul is not his who can be generous, but his 
who can profit by generosity without resenting 
it. Of such souls there are very few, if all secrets 
were unveiled; the self-respecting man is angry 
with Fate, and gradually Fate is represented by 
his friend. It had been facile to Lingham to 
pluck the girl from want, and play the hero; but, 
before they had been married a year, to eat the 
bread of her providing without bitterness — he 
hadn't the stomach to do that. 

On the tension fell a double knock. Mr. Al- 
port had been as good as his word, and written 
within three days. He did not write — what he 
thought — that the story was below the author's 
standard; he said it was ‘‘a departure from his 
usual style." For that reason the firm were 
somewhat doubtful of the way it would be re- 
ceived. They would be glad to publish the book 
on the same terms as the last, but he sincerely re- 
gretted to say that they were unable to offer any 
sum on account of royalties. 


220 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

Liligham had grabbed the letter from the 
housemaid’s tray, and read it aloud in a harsh 
voice. When he ceased, neither he nor Meenie 
spoke for quite a minute. He folded the letter 
in three again and crossed the room, and dropped 
the paper on the mantelpiece. Still she could 
find no comment. She put her arms round his 
neck in silence, and laid her cheek against his 
face. Because she had been blaming him she 
sorrowed for him now more vehemently. She 
was stricken for him; the blow was brutal; those 
awful weeks, those inexorable, relentless weeks 
for nothing! The double knocks came faintly 
from the distance. . . . 

'' He’s a gentleman,” he said at last. Of 
course, the thing is muck — he doesn’t say so! ” 

The woman in her found voice. 

He is mean,” she cried, ‘‘ mean! he doesn’t 
want to pay! ” 

They stood looking vaguely from the win- 
dow at the crawling hansoms and the errand- 
boys. Both were dominated by a thought they 
would not utter yet. The man could not bring 
himself to admit his helplessness; his wife knew 
that to say, You must let me do it, after all, 
dear,” would be to twist the knife in his wound. 

Clinging to straws, he wrote offering to sell 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 221 


the book to the firm outright. He was scarcely 
disappointed next day to hear that they were not 
prepared to buy it; he had expected nothing 
else. That night the thought was spoken. She 
whispered it to him in the dark. And in the 
morning he went to Parlett. 

Annie, when she let him in, was very pale. 
She faltered, “ Look, sir,” and, looking, he saw 
a large hole in one of the panes of the swing 
doors; the shattered glass was littering the 
ground. It was his luck to have come to beg 
a service at the worst time. 

“ Mr. Parlett? ” he asked. 

The girl nodded tremulously. “ And he has 
broken things in the study. He’s in the dining- 
room now, sir. I haven’t seen him so bad for 
years.” 

He went in, and found Parlett hurrying 
round the table, with his hands clasped on his 
head. His face was crimson, and his blue eyes 
looked as if he had been crying. At Lingham’s 
entrance his pace slackened for an instant, and he 
tried to smile. 

“ Hallo, Ralph,” he said weakly, “ how are 
you, boy? Sit down. Don’t — don’t mind me; I 
shall be all right as soon as I have worked it of¥.” 

Breakfast was set, but the cup was clean, and 
IS 


222 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 


the cover was still on the dish. Lingham put no 
questions. He filled his pipe and smoked mood- 
ily, while the other rushed round the room talk- 
ing to a third person who was not there. The 
spectacle would have been comic, but for the sobs 
which in moments broke the man’s voice. His 
great chest heaved, his nostrils quivered; inter- 
mittently he did, indeed, try to restrain his hys- 
teria, and then was swept into headlong raving 
violence by his own address. 

You introduced a step-dance into the 
drama with the best intentions, did you, Mr. Bed- 
brooke? In your opinion that scene is a good 
opportunity for a step-dance? You lying skunk, 
you ruin the work of my brain to get another 
round of applause for yourself! Did you write 
anything about it till I found it out? No! No, 
you never meant me to hear of it. You scoun- 
drel! you abandoned, treacherous scoundrel! If 
I hadn’t seen the notices I shouldn’t have 
known! In your opinion, eh? You have opinions 
about the drama to-day, have you, Mr. Bed- 
brooke? When you were Wang-Tang-Too the 
Cannibal King, outside a booth in a fair, with a 
penn’orth of raw liver in your hand, you had 
fewer opinions! What do you mean by it, eh? 
What do you mean? ” He stopped at the side- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 223 

board, covered three telegraph forms with a 
message that remained unfinished, and pitched 
the pencil into the grate, “ Give me some tea ! ” 
he said, dropping into his chair. 

Emboldened by Lingham’s presence, the maid 
had stolen in, and, as she complied, the sugar- 
tongs fluttered visibly. She displayed a bloater 
with persuasive murmurs, but Parlett would have 
none of it, and did no more than gulp the tea. 

All the time he kept talking to Mr. Bed- 
brooke, and at last Lingham, engrossed by his 
errand, and impatient to come to the point, flung 
out: 

“ If somebody is spoiling your piece, why not 
tell him he has got to play it properly or give it 
up? ” 

Parlett looked as if a new light had been shed 
on the subject. “ Yes,” he exclaimed, “ he has 
got to play it properly or give it up! Or you’ve 
got to give it up, do you hear? Or I’ll take it 
away from you, you rogue — now, right off; you 
sha’n’t ring the curtain up to-night! I let him 
have it because he came here and pleaded to me; I 
let it to him cheap; I wanted to do the little man 
a turn. And now he deceives me! He ruins me; 
he produces my drama as a musical comedy — the 
work of months, of my tortured days and sleep- 


224 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

less nights! The veins were starting from his 
forehead. ‘‘ You villain, you double-faced, das- 
tardly villain! All alike! Not a friend in the 
world! Not a man straight! Not one you can 
trust! To hell with the whole blazing lot of 
them!'’ He caught the bloater from the dish 
and hurled it through the air. It spun to a land- 
scape, glanced off a marble bust, and scattered 
on the floor; particles of it splashed the mirror. 
He bowed his head on his arms, and moaned. 
There was a long silence. Annie moved nerve- 
lessly about the room with a serviette, collecting 
fragments, but they were countless, and clung 
everywhere. Presently he raised his face, and 
watched her through wet lashes. 

‘‘ That fish," he murmured, ‘‘ seems to have 
gone farther than any since the miracle. . . . 
Oh, I am bad, Ralph, bad! Pm getting worse; I 
shall die in an asylum. I've broken the glass in 
the door, and a beautiful vase. I usedn't to be so 
bad as this — I always smashed the cheap things; 
and now I don't consider." 

“ You could control yourself if you liked,'’ 
said Lingham. 

‘H can not. My mother went to her wardrobe 
before I was born, and tore up all her clothes. I 
was the same as a child; . . . and then she used 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 22$ 

to beat her breast, and say ‘ Poor little Spencer! 
Oh, it’s all my fault!’ Once I threw a boiled 
apple-pudding at my nurse — it was a terrible af- 
fair, that! But not a boiled apple-pudding as I 
get them here; these people ” — he glanced at the 
parlour-maid disparagingly — '' don’t know how 
to make a boiled pudding! Ann Pidgin, our old 
cook at home, what puddings she used to make! 
A rich, soft, golden apple-pudding ” — his tone 
was mellifluous, yet tinged with regret — '' it 
gushed a clear, sweet juice, the colour of daffo- 
dils! I’ve never had them right since. Do you 
ever wonder what the women who have loved us 
think of our goings on if they can see down after 
they die? I often hope my rages don’t upset my 
mother so much as they did. It wouldn’t be 
heaven for her, you know, old chap, if she were 
reproaching herself all the time because she tore 
up her clothes. I like to think of the dead as 
Maeterlinck regards God: 'A God who sits 
smiling on a mountain, and to whom our gravest 
offences are only as the naughtiness of puppies 
playing on a hearthrug.’ That’s how a man 
wants to think of the dead; it’s not a woman’s 
idea. Browning knew the woman’s idea — the 
horrible, haunting fear of the wife that if she dies 
first her husband will forget her, and when she’s 


226 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


in heaven the other women will ‘ know so much, 
and talk together ’ ! Ah, great, great, great ! 

* And is it not the bitterer to think 
That disengage our hands, and thou wilt sink 
Although thy love was love in very deed ? 

I know that nature ! Pass a festive day. 

Thou dost not throw its relic flower away 
Nor bid its music’s loitering echo speed.’ 

' Its music’s loitering echo speed’! Ah, di- 
vine!” 

Gesture came naturally to him when he 
quoted, and he had been buttering toast, and still 
held the knife; yet the fervour of his voice, the 
intense earnestness of the man, prevented his be- 
ing ridiculous. His paroxysm was already for- 
gotten; he was rapt in pure enjoyment of the 
poetry. If one of the aspirants who frequently 
intruded here could have entered now, Spencer 
Parlett would have confirmed his fanciful picture 
of the Literary Man at Home. 

‘ Recoin thyself, and give it them to spend — 

It all comes to the same thing at the end, 

Since mine thou wast, mine art, and mine shalt be, 
Faithful or faithless ; sealing up the sum 
Or lavish of thy treasure, thou must come 
Back to the heart’s place here I keep for thee ! ’ ” 

The knife greased his waistcoat, and he threw 
it aside and lit a cigar. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 22/ 

“ Well, how are you? ” he inquired pleasant- 
ly; “ why don’t you talk? ” 

“ I haven’t had much chance,” said Lingham. 
” I have come to talk; I’ve come to talk on a very 
serious matter — I want you to do something for 
me.” 

Parlett looked apprehensive. 

“ What’s wrong? ” he asked, trusting that it 
wasn’t going to be more than five pounds. 

“ I want an engagement for my wife in A 
Ring o’ Roses. I can’t get any money on my 
book; I have no salary, and I have no capital. 
It’s a fine position to be in; I’m prouder of my- 
self than I can say; but we can’t starve — and even 
if I were willing, I couldn’t ask her to starve, too 
— so I have got to let her do something.” 

“My dear boy!” exclaimed Parlett, lift- 
ing his shoulders, “ my dear boy, the thing is 
cast. It was cast weeks ago; the rehearsals 
begin on Thursday. You should have spoken 
before.” 

“ You said you thought she was clever,” 
muttered Lingham stubbornly; “ why are you 
frightened to trust her with a part in your own 
opera? ” 

“ Oh, don’t talk pickles,” said Parlett, flaring 
up; “I tell you the company is complete. I 


228 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


would have trusted her with a small part — you 
know I would — that is, if Vanderhoff didn't ob- 
ject. There's nothing left to engage except the 
chorus; that's no good to you." 

‘‘ I don't know; I suppose it would be better 
for her than what she has got." 

“ Thirty-five shillings a week! " He smiled. 

‘‘ Well, damn it," cried Lingham, ‘‘ I tell you 
we haven't got anything at all! You don't seem 
to understand English. The situation is desper- 
ate. Thirty-five shillings a week would keep her, 
anyhow! The manager pays the fares from place 
to place, don't he? " 

‘‘ Oh, yes. She can have a chorus ' shop ' to- 
morrow, if you like." 

“ ‘ Like '? I don't ‘ like ' it much, my friend. 
I'd go and mend the road in preference! But 
they don't want me to mend a road, and it 
wouldn't keep us if I did. If she gets thirty-five 
shillings a week, she will be provided for as long 
as the tour lasts; I must shift for myself. There's 
nothing half so sweet in life as love's young 
dream! It's a pretty marriage, isn't it? We 
sha'n't have been married a year till the end of 
next month, and I've got to turn her out to earn 
her own living! ... Of course, every outsider 
who sponges on his wife goes to his pals whining 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 229 

at the cruelty of his fate. I suppose I look as big 
a cur as anybody? ” 

“ You’re a very sensitive, morbid sort of an 
ass,” said Parlett reflectively. “ I’ll make an ap- 
pointment for her to see the stage-manager to- 
morrow; it will save her hanging about on 
Thursday with the crowd. I’ll drop you a line 
to-night.” 

It occurred to Lingham that, after all, his 
poverty was not Parlett’s fault. 

“ Thank you, old chap,” he said, with some 
degree of heartiness, “ thank you very much. 
Then I can tell her it is settled? ” 

“Yes; tell your wife that if there had been a 
part open, I should have been delighted to sug- 
gest her for it. Well, what shall you do while she 
is away ? ” 

“ I shall take a bedroom somewhere, and try 
for a job on another paper. Perhaps I might get 
some reviewing to do. But I don’t know any 
editors; it will be very difficult. You can’t intro- 
duce me to anybody, can you? ” 

“Editors aren’t in my line,” said Parlett; 
“ you want to get hold of a journalist for that. 
If you were a doctor, now, I could keep you 
busy. Oh, my boy, I am ill. Swollen, swollen! 
And look at my hands — that’s all gout.” 


230 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

He dilated on his complaints eloquently, and 
on his trials in general. In one minute his vis- 
itor's troubles had faded from his mind, and the 
universe had narrowed to his own; in two, he 
was sighing that Lingham's was “an ideal ex- 
istence.” 

But when he said that he never sold a horse 
or a dog, he might have added that he never sold 
a man; and Lingham went back to Meenie with 
the knowledge that Parlett's word was as good 
as his bond. 


CHAPTER XIX 

So it proved. Mrs. Ralph Lingham was en- 
gaged for the tour of A Ring o’ Roses, and while 
the husband tramped the wet pavements of Fleet 
Street, the wife was on the stage of the Opera 
Comique, where the company were rehearsing 
every day. Once more she was a chorus girl, and 
again she called herself “ Miss Meenie Weston.” 

She had had visions of earning enough for 
both, and the disappointment had been severe 
when she learnt that no part was open. Still, 
from experience, she knew that she could live for 
a pound a week when the tour began, and she 
meant to send Ralph fifteen shillings every Sat- 
urday, though he had insisted that her salary was 
to be spent on herself. 

In the meantime they left Mrs. Kiss’s and 
rented a top bedroom in Guilford Street, and he 
pawned his watch and chain for ten pounds. If 
he could have viewed the crisis with his wife’s 


231 


232 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

eyes, the fortnight they spent in that top bed- 
room would have been happy enough, in spite of 
the impendiitg separation. Nor was it wholly 
melancholy, though he could not. He was not 
able to regard her in the way she wished to be 
regarded — as a comrade of strength and respon- 
sibility equal to his own; but he admired her spirit 
too strongly to be candid, now that candour 
could serve no purpose. 

The company departed for Liverpool on a 
Sunday, and he went to King’s Cross to see her 
off. To him more than to her the twenty min- 
utes in the station were poignant; to her the 
platform presented a familiar sight — to him it 
was painfully strange. The tribe of vociferous 
women and shabby men, the gapes of the on- 
lookers, the windows of the train plastered with 
the name of the opera in scarlet capitals, sent his 
humiliation home to him with a rush. A cad in 
authority told her curtly in which compartment 
to sit. There were seven other girls in it — her 
associates ; they wore cheap finery, and no gloves. 
The compartment was a babel of bad English. 
The husband stood at the door to say good-bye. 
Three of the young women made eyes at him 
while he waited. Her love was deeper than his, 
though he was very fond of her, and she had seen 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 233 

all that he strove to hide; but she did not 
plumb the depth of his shame as he stood there — 
she did not guess how nearly he flung reason to 
the winds, and snatched her from the train before 
it could start. 

The flag waved. He forced a farewell smile, 
and maintained it till she withdrew her head. 
She had gone; he was powerless to support her! 
He walked back, under his umbrella, abjectly. 
But for the abasement of poverty to-day it was 
as if his bachelorship had been revived! He had 
known Guilford Street for fifteen years — lived in 
a dozen of its lodgings — and, after the embry- 
onic hotel at the corner, it wore the old familiar 
aspect; the road was being pulled up, and the 
houses were being pulled down. The “ single 
room to which he was to be transferred, now 
that he was alone — how many such “ single 
rooms had he occupied in his life! Yes, he was 
fond of her, but the proof that his marriage had 
been a madness was overwhelming. He had no 
wish to avail himself of the privileges of mar- 
riage and to escape its duties. 

On Tuesday evening the drudge brought up a 
letter from her, and a package forwarded by Mrs. 
Kiss. He learnt by the letter that the opera had 
scored a great success, and found by the package 


234 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

that the manager of the Sovereignty had no use 
for his play. He read it through again ; he could 
not think that it was bad. On the other side of 
a locked door was the apartment of two counter- 
jumpers from Regent Street. All the evening, 
while he read, they told each other amusing anec- 
dotes in gruff voices, and expressed their sense 
of humour with their feet. Their stamping 
drove him wild, and he asked God how a man 
who lived in lodgings could be expected to 
write. In the morning he asked the landlady. 
She said young men would be young men. She 
was unusual only insomuch as she was honest; 
she had not been in the business long. It had 
been raining for three weeks, and he remarked, 
‘'A filthy climate, Mrs. Watkins! ’’ as she let him 
out. She said, Lor, Mr. Lingham, one would 
never think you was an Englishman to hear you 
a-running down old England like that! From 
the grocer’s in Lamb’s Conduit Street he de- 
spatched the luckless comedy to the Diadem, a 
note of congratulation to Parlett, and several 
cheerful falsehoods to his wife. 

The days are no more when authors fore- 
gathered in taverns over a pint of stout and a 
steak, and Lingham’s circle of acquaintances was 
not wide. It was no easy matter for him to find 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 235 

regular employment. He was too old a hand to 
dream that he could pay his way by means of 
unsolicited short stories, even though he were 
to scatter them broadcast, and to obtain a com- 
mission for a series was almost hopeless. Only 
once had he had an engagement of that kind — on 
a paper called Bon-Ton — and then the terms had 
been half a guinea for three thousand words. 
When Meenie had been gone a week, he changed 
his last sovereign, and seemed as far as ever from 
a salary. 

Monday brought him another tender little 
letter, inclosing a postal order. She had fulfilled 
her intention, and a lump rose to his throat. He 
could not take her money; it was impossible that 
he could let her work and stint herself, too! He 
could not take her money, but he saw how de- 
lighted she was to send it, how timid of accentu- 
ating his discomfiture, and it was difficult to 
frame a refusal that would not wound her. 

After he had evolved the most specious in 
his power — an answer containing many endear- 
ments, but also the remittance which it had been 
her joy to make — he determined before he posted 
it to adventure Bon-Ton this morning. Prob- 
ably in that quarter, and at a starvation wage, 
he could arrange a series. If he did, he would 


236 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

tear the answer up, and write, instead, that he 
had found something to do, and would have ac- 
cepted her aid gladly had it been essential. 

Bon-Ton was not a paper of so high a stand- 
ing as the title implied. It was a minor periodi- 
cal, owned and edited by a gentleman whose 
tastes inclined to journalism, and whose liveli- 
hood was gained by pawnbroking. Mr. Hunt, 
despite the incongruity of his pursuits, was a very 
agreeable man of charming address, and his con- 
tributors — in Lingham's time, at least — had 
never betrayed their knowledge that the name of 
Hunt under the three gilt balls a little lower 
down the street had any connection with the 
courteous chief who examined their copy in the 
office of Bon-Ton. With a delicacy born of re- 
spect they always pawned their watches some- 
where else. 

When Lingham was admitted to the editorial 
den, Mr. Hunt was much pleased to see him. 

I have often wondered whether ‘ Ralph 
Lingham,’ the novelist, and the ‘ Ralph Ling- 
ham ’ who used to do our feuilletonSy were one 
and the same,” he said. ''Are you the author of 
Angela Brown, Publisher, and the rest of 
them? ” 

I am that celebrity,” said Lingham. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 237 

‘'I congratulate you very heartily! You 
have gone far since those days/’ 

‘‘ You’re very kind. . . . ‘ One always re- 
turns to one’s first love.’ ” 

'' Do you mean that you are open to do some- 
thing for us again? ” 

Why not? ” said Lingham. ‘‘ It was with 
that idea I came to see you.” 

But Mr. Hunt, it transpired, was in no need 
of short tales. He was now offering in each 
number a prize for the best submitted, and found 
that the amateurs wrote them quite well enough 
for him, besides buying the paper regularly to 
learn the result of the competition. 

'' And then the winner spends two-thirds of 
the prize-money on copies to send to his 
friends,” he explained blandly. To get a pro- 
fessional man to buy copies one must give him a 
four-column interview and a portrait ! But I 
should have liked your work, all the same. What 
is it you want? just an appointment, or must the 
work be in fiction? ” 

I’m not particular. Is there a vacancy on 
the staff? ” 

Would you care to do the dramatic criti- 
cism? ” asked Mr. Hunt. 

'' What are you paying for it? ” 

16 


238 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

The proprietor confessed that the rate was 
not high. But it wouldn't take up much of your 
time," he pointed out. ‘‘ And — I don't know if 
you're fond of the theatre — you would be able to 
see every piece before it had been out a week, 
and one or two of the houses send us a ticket for 
the first night. Thirty shillings? " 

‘'I'm afraid I couldn’t really!" said Ling- 
ham, masking alacrity. 

“ I am sorry I can't do better," said Mr. 
Hunt; “ it is the most the paper will stand." 

The novelist pulled his mustache. “ It's very 
little," he murmured. 

“ Think it over," said Mr. Hunt. 

Lingham shrugged his shoulders. “ All 
right," he said, “ I'll take it! " They settled the 
details before he left, and Mr. Hunt, who went 
out at the same time, inquired “ if it was too early 
for him." 

The berth and the whisky sent him home in 
high feather, and Meenie received a gay epistle 
describing the brilliance of his prospects. “ I am 
to loll in stalls," he wrote, “ and to be paid 
for it! My only trouble is the thought of the 
laundry bills for so many dress-shirts. Take back 
the fifteen shillings that thou gavest, and revel 
in luxury! You're a darling! " 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 239 

When the unacted playwright had been a dra- 
matic critic for about a month, a long telegram 
from her arrived. She telegraphed that a woman 
was leaving the company, and asked him to im- 
plore Parlett to let her have the part. By her 
prolixity, at the cost of a halfpenny a word, he 
saw that she was very much in earnest, and he 
went to Belsize Avenue as soon as her appeal was 
digested. 

He showed his friend her message, and after 
Parlett had said several times that no doubt the 
manager had some one else in his eye, he rang 
him up on the telephone to ascertain. 

Flora is a very important part,’' he re- 
peated, irritably, while they waited for the bell 
to sound. Flora sings Consequential Carrie! 
^ Small ’ part, your wife calls it? She talks like a 
prima donna! It’s not a small part. If she had 
had more experience it would be another thing, 
but — well. I’ll do what I can! But I don’t make 
the engagements; I can only suggest her 
for it.” 

When communication with the manager was 
established at last, Lingham sat attentive on the 
table. 

'' Is that you? ” cried Parlett. Eh? . . . 
Yes — I’m talking to you. ... Yes! I say, my 


240 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


boy, how about Flora? Is it cast for New- 
castle? . . . What? . . . Oh!’’ 

“ Is it cast? ” exclaimed Lingham, under his 
breath. 

‘‘ No. Well, what do you want me to say? ” 
‘‘ Say she’s just the woman for it! ” 

‘‘It’s a great responsibility!” growled Par- 
lett; “ Consequential Carrie she sings! ” He bent 
to the tube again: “ I say, you’ve got just the 
woman in the company! Meenie Weston! she’s 
in the chorus. . . . Eh? . . . Oh, do you think 
so? ” He turned to Lingham: “ He says she's 
too ‘ petite ’ — she wouldn’t look it.” 

“ Say she’s very clever,” said Lingham, hur- 
riedly, picturing her eagerness. 

“This is shameful!” muttered Parlett. . . . 
“ She’s damn clever, my boy! Trust to ‘ Poppa ’ 
— I know what I’m talking about. . . . What? 

Oh, I should think — er ” He glanced over 

his shoulder. “ What will your wife take? ” 

“ Heaven knows! ” said Lingham. “ What’s 
it worth? ” 

“ This woman gets seven pounds a week. 
Say four pounds ten? ” 

“ Call it five! ” said Lingham. 

“ Five pounds,” continued Parlett through 
the telephone; “she’ll be cheap at the money! 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 24 1 

. . . What? . . . Well, you wouldn’t get any- 
body else for that! . . . What? . . . Yes, she’s a 
‘ find ’ ! . . . Right you are ! What was the 
house last night? ” He chuckled. “ Good- 
bye! ” 

And this was how Meenie obtained her first 
part. Her emotions were unspeakable. The 
edge of joy was so keen that it hurt. But there 
were trials to come, too. Her rehearsals began 
the next morning, and continued for a fortnight. 
A company always resents having to attend re- 
hearsals for the benefit of a new member — al- 
though they recognise that their attendance is 
necessary — and when the new member is a pro- 
moted chorus girl they resent it still more. A 
Ring o’ Roses Company, with a few excep- 
tions, were openly disdainful. They “ walked 
through ” their “ business ” with raised eye- 
brows, and some of the chorus ladies, who had to 
disappoint desirable acquaintances in order to be 
provoked by an ex-companion’s sudden impor- 
tance, tittered at her acting as loudly as they 
dared. 

For she had to act — she solely. It was a hor- 
rible ordeal to caper about the stage, and simu- 
late excitement and rapture among a listless 
crowd who replied in murmurs, and kept their 


242 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


hands in their muffs. Her limbs seemed weight- 
ed, and though she hated the girls who tittered, 
she felt that she was looking ridiculous. 

The stage-manager was considerate enough, 
but the low comedian — an ill-conditioned brute, 
who had been expelled from a lodging-house in 
Manchester for half killing his dog — cowed her 
more than all the others combined. He was not 
satisfied to be scornful; he was perpetually ex- 
asperated. One of her scenes was played with 
him, and for every line she uttered he had an im- 
patient rebuke. At last she was stupid with 
timidity. Once when he muttered that he 
‘‘ hadn’t been in the profession twenty years to 
have his laughs corpsed by a — chorus girl,” the 
stage-manager came to her rescue. After that 
the comedian did not interfere with her, but she 
knew she had an enemy for the rest of the tour, 
and that he would try to confuse her before the 
audience by every means in his power. 

And constantly now she had the same night- 
mare. She dreamt that she was standing in the 
wings of a theatre, waiting to go on ” for a 
part that she had not read. She was faint with 
horror. Nearer and nearer came the cue; in an- 
other instant she must stand speechless on the 
stage. The agony always woke her before the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 243 

cue fell; but that nightmare recurred to her at 
intervals as long as she lived. 

Htv debut was to be made in Newcastle, and 
in the Newcastle playbills on the momentous 
Monday she beheld her name printed in a cast 
for the first time. It looked larger to her than 
anybody else’s — it leapt out of the column to her 
in every window. How insignificant now ap- 
peared the string of names at the foot : ‘‘ Brides- 
maids, courtiers, peasants — Misses Neilson, Er- 
roll, Vandeleur, Norise,’’ etc.! The type seemed 
to have shrunk since her advancement. 

She begged one of the bills from the advance 
agent to send to Ralph. At seven o’clock she 
went to the theatre, quivering. She thanked God 
that she was to dress with two of the principals 
to-night; under the envious comments of the 
chorus she might have broken down. She found 
immediately that she was not to escape comment 
as it was. On the staircase there was an alterca- 
tion; one of the two women was complaining 
that she was insulted by the arrangement; nor 
did she lower her voice as Meenie approached. 

^‘Putting a chorus girl to dress with me! 
Yes, she is! Of course she is! I do object; my 

position in the company ” 

Miss Weston is engaged for Flora,” said 


244 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

the Stage-manager. ‘‘ You have always dressed 
with Flora! ’’ 

Yes, when you had an artiste for the part! 
A chorus girl? What next? I never heard of 
such a thing in my life. To-morrow night 

Meenie hurried by. The woman, pledged to 
silence, presently ignored her with a rudeness that 
was meant for dignity. The other dropped a few 
kindly remarks. While the girl made up, the 
grease-paint shook in her hand, and the crashing 
of the cymbals, and the bangs of the drum, struck 
terror to her heart. Until the second act 
Flora did not appear. 

Beginners, second act,’’ the call-boy yelled, 
and she crept to the wings, suffocating with 
dread. The stage-manager glanced at her anx- 
iously. The incident on the stairs had been 
enough to unhinge a more experienced actress. 

‘‘ Nervous, my dear? ” he asked. 

She tried to smile. 

He saw, and said no more. 

'' Clear, please! ” 

The perspiring scene-shifters hurried from the 
stage. The chorus drew a breath, and poised 
themselves for airy tripping. She had five min- 
utes left. 

She moved to the entrance from which she 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 245 

was to run on. The orchestra burst forth afresh, 
and she could see the curtain rise. While she 
waited for her cue one thought whirled in her: 
the thought of all she had to justify — her long 
belief in herself, Ralph's request to Parlett, 
Parlett's generosity. ‘‘ It's my chance," she kept 
thinking; ‘‘ what I have hoped for, what I have 
felt I could do. Oh, let me do it — don't let me 
fail! My chance is here! this is my chance! " 
The cue came, and the stage-manager 
touched her arm: 

'' Now, my dear! " he said. 


CHAPTER XX 


Because the Newcastle Daily Chronicle 
gave her the first praise that she saw she was 
thankful to it for life. All the criticisms that she 
received were good; the correspondents of the 
Era and the Stage made her laugh with delight 
when she read their notices; but the commenda- 
tion of the Newcastle Daily Chronicle, at the 
breakfast table next morning, brought tears to 
her eyes. 

She had known when she left the theatre that 
her manager was pleased with her, but it wasn't 
till she received an answer to her glad telegram 
to Guilford Street that she knew the extent of 
his approval: Parlett hears you are great! " 
Theatrical folk have their own terminology. 
She was not great," nor was the term used to 
signify what the rest of the world means by 
greatness," but she was dainty and naive, and 
she became a favourite with the audience in 
246 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 247 

every town. Her voice and her face — behind the 
footlights her face was beautiful — appealed to 
every one. Then in the Flora costume, with 
her hair down, she looked surprisingly young, 
and old ladies in the pit would say: “ Oh, that 
dear little girl! I do wish that dear little girl 
would come on again! ” A check-taker was an 
acquaintance of the baggageman’s, and the bag- 
gageman told the wardrobe mistress, and the 
wardrobe mistress mentioned it to the acting 
manager, and so it got to headquarters. And 
there was no longer a question whether other 
“ principals ” would share dressing-rooms with 
her — though m.any disparaged her much more 
than if she had been a failure. On the boards 
personality is nine-tenths of the battle, but they 
who have all the tricks of experience at their 
finger ends feel bitter when a novice outstrips 
them by virtue of mere charm. 

In February it was whispered that A Ring o’ 
Roses was to be taken to London. No sooner 
did the rumour reach Meenie than she wrote to 
Lingham inquiring excitedly whether she would 
be retained for the West End production, if the 
news proved true, but he was unable to give her 
a definite reply. 

In March it was settled that the opera was to 


248 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

be put on at the Piccadilly during the following 
month. Numerous changes were made in the 
company before a London verdict was chal- 
lenged. The heroine of the tour was replaced by 
a singer at forty pounds a week, and a popular 
comedian supplanted the one who kicked his 
dog. However, the management decided that to 
engage a Flora with a reputation, when they had 
a good one for five pounds, would be an unwar- 
ranted expense, and among the few who kept 
their parts were Meenie and the young woman 
who had spoken to her kindly on the occasion of 
her debut. The woman was her one friend. 

Miss Stewart,’’ as she was called, had also a 
husband in town. He had an accountant’s berth 
in the city, and she confided to Meenie that she 
was only remaining on the stage till they could 
pay some money that they owed. As soon as 
they had saved it, she was going to stop at home 
in their '' dear little flat.” She loved to talk 
about it; and Meenie was to go to see her 
there. 

The girl had had the advantage of watching 
her predecessor for a month before she com- 
menced rehearsals; now she had the advantage 
of having played the role night after night for 
three months before she faced the London press. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 249 

Circumstances had been greatly in her favour, 
and she reached St. Pancras buoyantly. Ling- 
ham was on the platform. She had written to 
him to tell Mrs. Watkins that they would like to 
have the drawing-room floor, for with six 
pounds ten a week between them top bed-rooms 
were out of the question; and when they went in, 
the table was laid for dinner, and a bundle of 
violets that he had bought to welcome her 
bloomed in a bowl. 

The wide drawing-room looked luxurious to 
him with its saddle-bag suite — from which the 
first gloss had worn — the draped mantel-shelf, 
and the piano. After the feeble lamp upstairs, 
the gaselier was a blaze of splendour. At dinner 
she did most of the talking; there were so many 
things to tell him that had always evaded her pen, 
but there were very few for him to impart. 
When they rose, she opened her trunk, and re- 
appeared with a meerschaum pipe, and a silver 
match-box, and a paper-knife with an angel’s 
head on the handle — little presents that she had 
collected for him on her travels. She was so 
pleased to return that she chattered and laughed 
in a breath, and he was happy to have her back 
with him. But he could not produce any pres- 
ents because he had no money to spare, and as he 


250 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

thanked her, the violets looked meagre in his 
eyes. 

They no longer dwelt on the comedy as his 
passport to public favour; it had been rejected in 
too many quarters by now, and he seemed to her 
to build but little on a book he had begun, 
though this was to be no pot-boiler, but a piece 
of work which would occupy a year. Hitherto 
there had always been something they looked 
forward to together — some Jack-o’-lantern that 
was to be their sun — and she missed in him the 
cheerful allusions beginning ‘‘ When.” She felt, 
as the glow of the reunion faded, that he was a 
depressed man trying to be lively. 

The next time that Lingham saw Parlett he 
received boisterous congratulations on his wife’s 
talent. The dramatist was in his dithyrambic 
key. You’re a damned lucky chap to be mar- 
ried to such a clever little woman,” he ex- 
claimed; she’ll be getting big terms before she 
has done! Wait till you see her on the first 
night ! ” Lingham said he was glad that the 
other was satisfied. 

The opera was to be produced at the Picca- 
dilly on a Wednesday evening, and his latest 
copy for Bon-Ton had always to be handed in by 
Wednesday afternoon. Neither he nor Meenie 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 2$ I 

was willing for the paper to come out that week 
without a notice of A Ring o’ Roses, and he 
could not go to the dress rehearsal, so she told 
him the story, and he wrote his criticism of it on 
Wednesday morning. 

With his criticism of his wife’s performance 
he took great pains. 

“ ‘ A pronounced success was made by Miss 
Meenie Weston, a young lady whose name is 
new to me,’ ” he read. “ How is that for a 
start? ” 

She leant over his shoulder. 

“ Very good! ” she said. 

“Do you think so? I don’t like it much. . . . 
No, I sha’n’t say that; it’s elementary! . . . ‘ But 
the surprise of the evening was caused by an 
artiste whose name in the program was un- 
familiar! ’ That’s bad, too. Well, never mind — 
give me ‘ impression ’! What do you do first? ” 

“ I run on, you know. I call the chorus 
round me to tell them the news.” 

“ What news? ” 

“ Why, the news of the heroine’s elopement, 
silly! It’s a speech. I’ve some nice lines. I’m 
laughing.” 

“Oh, I see! Where are we? . . . ‘Whose 
name in the program was unfamiliar.’ You 


252 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

write, and Fll dictate — I think better when Fm 
walking about. Are you ready? 

She nibbled the penholder, and nodded. 

'' ‘ Suddenly a young girl had run on to the 
stage brimming with laughter. She clapped her 
hands, and beckoned the others close to hear 
the news! ’ 

‘‘ I don’t clap my hands,” she said. 

‘‘ Well, you ought to. I can’t spoil my de- 
scription because you don’t do it. Let that pass! 
. . . ‘ The others close to hear her news.’ Er — 
‘ She was fortunate in having some of the bright- 
est lines in the ‘"book” to speak, and Mr. Parlett’s 
‘‘ book ” is as happy as his lyrics — but it was not 
the tale she had to tell that startled us; it was the 
girl. She seemed to be bubbling with such irre- 
pressible glee, her merriment was so infectious, 
that a ripple of expectant laughter stirred the 
audience too. I think we all leant forward in 
our seats a little. We were listening to a madcap 
escaped from school, or to an unknown actress 
who was mistress of her art.’ ” 

‘‘ O Ralph,” she said, putting down the pen, 
that’s sweet! ” she sighed. It’s too much; 
not ‘ mistress ’ of her art, dear! ” 

He did not think it was an art at all, but it 
would have sounded like jealousy to say so now. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 253 

I want to do the most I can for you/’ he 
said drearily. ‘‘ But just as you like — we’ll alter 
that, then. Tell me what to say about your 
voice.” 

She had made purchases for the part the pre- 
vious afternoon at a shop that catered specially 
for ladies of her profession, and presently the box 
was delivered. She flew to it and wrestled with 
the string; she had never possessed such expen- 
sive lingerie before. Lingham cut the knot for 
her, and she drew out some stockings, smiling. 
There were three pairs of different tints, to tone 
with the costumes that she wore; and there were 
voluminous garments which comprised many 
things in one. He touched these curiously. 

‘‘ They’re beautifully made,” she murmured, 
dropping her eyes. And, indeed, they were; 
but he realized that the world was to see them 
on her, and he turned nearly as white as the 
lace. 

He took his notice to the office after luncheon 
— sherry and some sandwiches; their dinner hour 
was to be five, to suit Meenie. He was conscious 
that Mrs. Watkins treated him with increased 
respect since he had acquired the drawing-room 
floor, and she understood that his wife was one 
of the principal ladies at the Piccadilly. 

17 


254 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

His ticket was for the dress-circle, and when 
the curtain rose he was glad that — the notice 
being written — he could let his thoughts wander 
from the entertainment without restraint. He 
was obsessed by the knowledge that Meenie 
moved somewhere behind the glittering mys- 
teries across the footlights — that presently 
Meenie would be among the fantastic throng 
that pirouetted on the stage. Now that he was 
in the theatre the circumstances bewildered him 
a little; there was a breath of unreality in the 
situation until he sat looking at her. 

Avid of every lesson she could glean, she had 
made him promise to tell her exactly what he 
felt; and the first thing he felt as she ran to the 
public's stare was sick shame. But he would not 
tell her that! There was nothing immodest in 
her dress, viewing it as a burlesque costume; 
there was nothing indelicate in her part, regard- 
ing it as a part of anybody else. But she was his 
wife! And the skirt to her knees, and her co- 
quetries to a crowd, and the condescension of 
the painted tenor, struck him hard. 

She called the comic pastry cook darling," 
and they were supposed to marry. He put his 
arm round her waist, and kissed her. The kiss 
was not real, but the clasp was! Her husband 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 255 

told himself that so a man might have clasped 
her in a ball-room, but his heart was hot. A vul- 
gar, brainless mime, the “pastry cook”! But 
he could earn a thousand a year and support the 
woman he had married, if he had the wish. Only 
he, the lauded literary man, was impotent to do 
that! Of what good was such talent as his? It 
was an affliction, for it incapacitated him for any 
useful work! Of what value was the recognition 
of a cultured press? The “ pastry cook ” could 
snap his fingers at it! 

During the second entr’acte he went to the 
buffet. He had made a few acquaintances 
among the dramatic critics by now, and, if it had 
been possible, he would have begged one or two 
of them to write of Meenie as kindly as they 
could. It was beyond him; he could not nerve 
himself to confess that he was letting his wife do 
this thing. What would they say? — “ Certainly, 
my dear fellow! ” And behind his back — “ Must 
be a bit of a cad, you know! ” Yes, he was a cad! 
He said it; he felt that he was — or seemed — a 
cad; but he was helpless! In what calling could 
he earn more than he was being paid? Could he 
ask her to relinquish her salary and her prospects 
to pig with him on his thirty shillings a week? 
He shrank to a corner, and listened to the 


256 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

mingled comments of strangers who came up for 
whisky and soda, and cigarettes: 

“ Not half bad! I like the music. It’s very 
catchy.” 

“ Yes, by Jove, isn’t she? ” 

“ Which do you mean? ” 

“ The girl who plays — you know 1 What’s 
her name? ” 

“ Meenie Weston.” 

“ Oh, very poor! There hasn’t been a tune 
yet. Vanderhoff’s a fraud.” 

“Take care! That’s his brother-in-law be- 
hind you.” 

“ I say! Meenie Weston is agreeable to con- 
template, eh? Where does she come from? I’ll 
have a liqueur.” 

“ Did you notice her hands? She’s got no 
rings on ! ” 

“One! Married!” 

“ Oh, that doesn’t count! ” 

At the end of the performance he went up 
the side street and waited for her at the stage 
door. There were several young men in evening 
dress meeting ladies at the stage door; they ap- 
peared to find it more amusing than he. He 
realized that much depended on the relationship. 
She came out — a little, tremulous girl eager for 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 257 

his praise — and they rattled homeward in a han- 
som. He stared before him blankly. 

“ Well? ” she faltered. 

What could he say? 

“ Was I— all right? ” 

“ You were very good, dear,” he said; “ very 
good, indeed.” His tone was lifeless. 

The warmth of success left her. All the ela- 
tion, the excitement of the crisis, died in her 
veins. She had wanted him to hold her close 
and say she had astonished him. During the 
months on tour she had looked forward to his 
saying that. He had spoken too strongly last 
year for her to be puzzled, but she was hurt. Of 
necessity he had concurred at last; and she was 
doing her best! And she had spared him the 
recital of many incidents that he would have 
been pained to hear. It had not been “ roses 
all the way ” for her, though she had hidden the 
scratches. She would have worked her fingers to 
the bone for him, but she wanted them kissed. 

The hansom stopped, and they mounted the 
dark stairs silently. While he wrote his notice, 
she had pictured a joyous supper to-night, and 
she had given the landlady money to get a bottle 
of champagne. When he turned up the gas, 
Lingham saw it. It was a revelation. With a 


258 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

flood of pity for them both, he understood, and 
the disappointment he had inflicted tightened 
his own throat. 

'' What, champagne he said, trying to 
throw some gaiety into his voice. 

Her reply was indistinct, and she moved from 
him, gulping. She found the sight of the table 
pathetic, and his exclamation made it worse. 

'' Meenie! . . . What’s the matter? ” 

‘‘ My head aches,” she murmured, taking off 
her hat. I don’t think I want any supper; I am 
tired.” 

'‘No supper? A banquet, and you aren’t 
going to eat? Nonsense! Remember the occa- 
sion! Come and sit down.” 

She drooped by the mantel-shelf, her back 
toward him. He went over to her slowly and 
stroked her hair. 

"Oh!” she cried, falling to his shoulder, 
" why should it be like this, Ralph? ” 

He held her remorsefully; he could find no 
words. 

" I — I didn’t say enough,” he stammered at 
last. " I thought you knew. You — everybody 
thought you were very clever.” 

" No, no, it isn’t that! It’s the way you look 
at it! I see! . . . What will it mean — what is 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 259 

our life going to be — if you feel like this about it 
always? ” 

He noted with a pang that she no longer said 
“ It is only for a little while.” She had had suc- 
cess since she urged that — and he had had more 
failures. 

“ I’ll grow sensible,” he answered, labouredly 
light; “ I’ll be good! ... Be patient with me; 
it’s a little difficult for a man to be kept by his 
wife, and to like it.” 

“ ‘ Kept ’! ” Her eyes dilated. “ Oh, you 
make it horrible! ” 

“ Well, my dear, it is ‘ kept.’ I — God knows 
you are an angel — I appreciate; you do it all as 
sweetly as a woman could! I notice a good 
many things I don’t mention; you do your best 
to make me forget where my thirty shillings 
leave ofif and your five pounds begin; but facts 
are facts. Without you I should be back in my 
attic, and I should have dinner in Wardour Street 

for a bob. With you You can’t expect 

me to be proud of the position.” 

“ Is it impossible,” she said, thickly, “ for you 
to think of us as one? I do; I didn’t feel humili- 
ated when you took me out of the pension, and 
fed and clothed me! If you say it’s wicked that, 
with work like mine, I should earn more than 


26o when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 


you can with your books, I am with you heart 
and soul; but your triumphs will come — we 
know they will come. Can’t you be glad with me 
about my little penny triumphs in the mean- 
while? ” 

They had married; and behind the marriage 
the wife did not look. With tenderness, with 
sympathy, with discernment, she looked at all 
that was needful — at the present. She reflected 
that it was compulsory for her to work; she re- 
flected that even were she to take a situation in 
a shop, the fruit of her work would still be bitter 
in his mouth; she reflected that he was preparing 
unhappiness for them both by complaining of the 
inevitable. But — being his wife — she did not re- 
flect that he needn’t have married her at all; and 
this was the thought that underlay the man’s 
depression now. He might have kept single, and 
retained his self-respect! He felt that in marry- 
ing he had been unfair to her and to himself. 

But he would not harp on the thought. He 
drew her to the table, and, simulating cheerful- 
ness, uncorked her wine. 


CHAPTER XXI 


The opera ran merrily in town, and whenever 
his duties as a dramatic critic left him free Ling- 
ham brought his wife home. At a quarter to 
eleven he dropped his pen — snapping a thread of 
thought — and hurried to the Piccadilly to meet 
her as she came out. He would have it so, 
though she assured him that it was needless, that 
she was used to coming out of a stage door, and 
taking care of herself. She did not tell him that 
the insult from which he was so eager to protect 
her often awaited her inside the door, and he 
heard nothing of notes that she destroyed half 
read in her dressing-room. 

Neither had referred again to his discontent. 
As thoroughly as it could be, the subject had 
been thrashed out between them, and after the 
night of confessions it was tabooed. Their con- 
versation had placed them in each other’s arms, 
and she tried to believe that they remained there. 
She tried very hard. 


262 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


The man, on his side, had for a few days 
striven to maintain a complacent front, and 
with intention he did not drop it; he did not put 
it from him as a mask too irksome to be worn; he 
let it slip unconsciously. Nor was he conscious 
at the beginning of the irritability of his tone 
that so often wounded her. In his resentful rev- 
eries he was at infinite pains to discriminate be- 
tween her and circumstances, but he did not 
manifest discrimination by his behaviour. Those 
who tell a man he can keep back an insistent 
thought are as fatuous as they who said '' Keep 
back the tide'’; the thought that Lingham had 
vowed to restrain flowed in upon him every day. 
Their marriage had been a mistake for both. 
Her it had not enriched, and him it had left poor 
indeed! Slurring the fact that she owed her ad- 
vancement to his introduction, he said that she 
would have done just as well without him. He 
said that the girl he had rescued from a den in 
Paris would have succeeded anyhow — that by 
their precipitous marriage she had gained noth- 
ing except a husband who lived on her earnings. 
And as for himself — he was quite alive to the 
pathos of the situation, but he knew she wasn’t 
so dear to him when she was putting forth her 
best endeavours as when she had been helplessly 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 263 

affectionate; poverty had entered, and its pres- 
ence chilled him no less because his wife could 
avert its grip. As for himself, he could not pre- 
tend that her companionship compensated for 
his humiliation. The secret thought acted upon 
him like a secret vice, and irritable tones devel- 
oped into hasty words, and from hasty words 
sprang quick remonstrances. 

Perhaps, although she did not know it, she 
was outwardly a shade less tolerant than she had 
been. She would have abhorred herself to think 
that the turn of the wheel had dizzied her, but it 
was natural that she should stand higher in her 
self-esteem than formerly; she was less disposed 
to bow her neck to ill-temper and rebukes. 

And, as the months went by, he was con- 
stantly ill-tempered. He was sorry he had mar- 
ried her before he could afford it. He gave her 
credit for all the virtues; he owned that her dis- 
position was sweeter, that her character was 
nobler than his own; but he was sorry he had 
married, and few men can conceal such regret 
with the amiable hypocrisy of a woman. 

One Saturday in July, before she left for the 
theatre, she stood for a moment on the balcony. 
Inside, Lingham had just sat down to his novel. 
The day had been despairingly hot, and the sight 


264 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

of the arid length of Guilford Street filled her 
with a sudden craving for the sea. It was eight 
o’clock; the dinner bells of the boarding-houses 
had jangled an hour ago, and now at the win- 
dows, and on the doorsteps, the dull-faced clerks 
fanned themselves in the gathering quietude of 
twilight. She pictured the sea as it would look 
when the moon rose. The longing to behold it 
thrilled her, and she went back to the room im- 
pulsively. 

‘‘Ralph, it’s Saturday!” she exclaimed. 
“ Couldn’t we go away somewhere to-night 
after the show, and spend to-morrow at the sea- 
side? ” 

Sunday evening was the only one on which he 
was able to work without interruption, and he 
had been to the Piccadilly to meet her once to- 
day already, for the Saturday matinees had not 
been discontinued. He put his pen down with 
an elaborate gesture of renunciation, and leant 
back in the chair. 

“ Go away somewhere? ” he echoed. By his 
tone she might have suggested a trip round the 
world. “ What do you mean — ‘ go away some- 
where ’? ” 

“ It’s so hot,” she murmured. “ There’s a 
late train to Brighton. I could send a wire to a 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 265 

hotel before I went into the theatre, and we 
needn’t come back till Monday afternoon. It 
wouldn’t cost very much, and it would do us 
good.” 

“ Brighton? In July? Yes, it would do us a 
lot of good! Have you any idea what Brighton 
is like in July? You talk like a child; you don’t 
consider! It’s hotter there than here.” 

She bit her lip. “ Well, think of another 
place, then — I don’t mind where we go.” 

“ What do you want to go anywhere for? 
We haven’t an ‘ A. B. C.’ I don’t think we 
could get a train anywhere else so late. Besides, 
I’ve got my work to do! Don’t you know how 
slowly I’m getting on? I haven’t the time to 
go out of town.” 

“ Oh, very well,” she said sharply; “ it would 
make a great difference if you spared a day and 
a half! ” 

He wanted to swear, so he clinched his hands 
and beat them on the table. 

“ It isn’t a day and a half! ” he cried. “ You 
know just as well as I do that if I take a day off 
at the wrong time it costs me a week. By 
Heaven, it’s an extraordinary thing that a 
woman never learns! . . . All right, all right! 
We’ll go! Where do you want to go — Brighton? 


266 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


All right, pack your bag; Til pack mine pres- 
ently/’ 

'‘Oh, no,” she said; “we’ll stay at home, 
thank you.” 

“ Don’t be silly,” said Lingham; “ you want 
to go away, and it’s arranged! I’ve told you I’ll 
do it.” 

“ I don’t want to go away! Don’t say any 
more about it.” 

Oh ” He brought his fist down on 

the table with a crash. “ You’re maddening! 
You are! You’re maddening! You burst in 
upon me with some stupid whim; you send all 
my ideas out of my head; and then when I tell 
you — when I tell you — that I’ll go, you don’t 
want to! What does it matter to me whether 
we do, or don’t, now? I suppose you think I can 
go on with my work as if you hadn’t spoken. I’m 
not a machine. I can’t make a living by pranc- 
ing on the stage, and speaking somebody else’s 
words — I’ve got to find my own! I don’t know 
what I was writing about, I don’t know what I 
was going to say — everything gone! Whether 
I go to Brighton, or whether I stop here, you’ve 
ruined my evening! For Heaven’s sake, make 
up your mind what you do want before you talk 
about it! This sort of thing is killing! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 267 

“ You’re quite right,” she said, with a gasp; 
it is — killing! Every day — a dozen times a 
day, if I took notice of it — you speak to me as if I 
were your worst enemy. I can’t bear it, Ralph! 
I don’t think you know — I don’t think you can 
know — how you behave! You rage about trifles. 
You blame me for everything — you seem to like 
to blame me — it seems to be your one relief. I 
can’t say a word to you any more; I’m afraid to 
open my mouth! ” 

‘‘ Oh, you are very hardly used! ” said Ling- 
ham bitterly. 

There was a momentary pause. Outside, an 
itinerant harpist swept the strings, and sent up 
to them a love-song. 

Whatever I do, or say,” she stammered, “ it 
is wrong now! If I ask you how you are getting 
on, it is wrong; if I don’t ask you how you are 
getting on, it is wrong. God knows I try to do 
right, but we don’t agree any more — it seems as 
if we can’t! I’ve told you before that your 
temper is spoiling our lives.” 

Once or twice! ” he said. 

But not so often as I have felt it! ” 

I am very sorry,” he returned, a little 
shamefaced, but I really don’t know what I 
can do; I’m afraid I’m rather old to improve.” 


268 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

‘‘ Fm not a ‘ machine/ either! If you could 
remember it, we should be happier. I have 
nerves, too, though I do make a living on the 
stage by speaking somebody else's words.’^ 

“ I wasn’t referring to you/’ he muttered. 

“ You were! ” she cried; you sneered at me! 
I think sometimes you hate me since I’ve been 
on the stage.” 

Oh, don’t talk such rot! You make a 
mountain out of a mole-hill.” 

Yes, it is always a ‘ mole-hill ’ after you 
have done; I know! I am never to answer, I am 
never to feel — the nerves, the anger, the re- 
proaches, are all to be yours! And when you’ve 
done, when you’ve stamped on me, and bruised 
my heart, it’s a mole-hill. It isn’t fair, it isn’t 
possible. I’m a woman — you ought to have 
married a child! ” 

‘‘ Or nobody! ” he said, behind his teeth. 

“Or nobody,” she repeated; “that would 
have been best ! ” 

She stared beyond him passionately. The 
howl of the harpist filled the room with incon- 
gruous sentiment. 

Lingham frowned, and strode to and fro. 

“ These scenes are just as painful to me as to 
you,” he exclaimed. “ You tell me I’m a brute. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 269 


Fm not a brute intentionally. I Look here, 

you'll be late; go and put your things to- 
gether at once, will you? And Fll send a wire to 
the hotel." 

She shook her head. 

Why not? " 

It would be no pleasure now." 

‘'Then sulk!" he shouted. “ You've said 
everything you could think of, and now you 
want to pose as a martyr! I wish I were dead 
and buried! You used to have a good temper." 

“ My temper is what you are making it," she 
said. 

She hurried from him with a sob; he glared 
after her savagely. At the curb the harpist 
roared : 

‘‘ I need no moon, no sun, to guide me 
While I gaze in your dear heyes.*' 

“Oh, be damned!” said Lingham, and 
banged the window down. 


18 


CHAPTER XXII 


When the wife exclaims more and more fre- 
quently, '‘We don't get on together any long- 
er! " and the husband is girding at the tie, only 
family considerations are likely to avert a crisis. 
These two were without family considerations. 
They had no child to serve as link; they had 
no relatives who would regard their separation 
as a scandal. Lingham often reflected that, to 
himself at least, an amicable separation would 
come as an intense relief if he had the courage to 
propose it. Yet he shrank from proposing it. 
He hesitated because, though their life was one 
of daily friction, the measure would sound a vio- 
lent remedy to suggest for a comparatively small 
ill. He was deterred also, and chiefly, by the 
very fact that had originated the desire — the fact 
of her being on the stage. She was in a calling 
beset by temptations, and she had returned to it 
with his consent. It was his duty to uphold her 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 2/1 

by every means in his power. It was his duty to 
swallow his chagrin, and to stand by her till the 
time came when his work would suffice to sup- 
port them. And — supposing the time did arrive 
— if she should be loath then to relinquish the 
position he had been compelled to let her seek, 
it would be his duty to stand by her still. 

That was his duty, his unpalatable, odious 
duty; to bring her home from the theatre, to 
share her money, to resign himself to the percep- 
tion that her throat and her ankles were more 
valuable commodities than his brains — to b^ 
the husband of Miss Meenie Weston ’M But he 
was at once too strong and too weak. Sophistry 
could adduce arguments on the other side. 
When she went on tour she did ‘‘ return ’’ to the 
stage. His embarrassment had not driven her to 
it, a novice; it had been her profession before she 
met him, and the episode of a reckless marriage 
in no way accentuated the drawbacks of the 
‘‘ world ’’ to which she belonged. Her life would 
be the life she had led when accident threw 
them together. Far better! For she had been 
out of her depth at that moment, and his arm 
had saved her. And she would be in receipt of a 
good salary instead of a poor one! Here he did 
allow himself to dwell on the introduction that 


2/2 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

had been her “ open sesame,” and he argued that 
she would have no cause to complain of having 
married him. No cause, if he found the courage 
to be candid before her tears had dulled her 
prettiness; if he did not prolong his blunder till 
it became their curse! 

A Ring o’ Roses bloomed and faded, and, a 
few days after a notice on the call board apprised 
the company that the run would terminate in a 
fortnight’s time, she was ofifered an engagement 
at the Folly. 

Her salary was to be eight pounds a week, 
and, if the production proved a success, she 
thought that Lingham and she would be justified 
in taking the flat that “ Miss Stewart ” was try- 
ing so hard to let now. The accountant had died ; 
her dreams of home life when their debt was paid 
had ended with his illness; and suddenly she stood 
alone, and she couldn’t afford the rent. Meenie 
reflected that in their own place Lingham would 
be able to write more peacefully — that their own 
servant would banish from existence a hundred 
annoyances which tips to a lodging-house 
drudge could only abate. Like him, she looked 
ahead with misgivings. She could no longer 
keep her eyes bent solely on the present, and 
there were hours when to consider their future 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 2/3 

made her tremble. But when she married him 
he was a stranger idealized in the lime-light of 
circumstance; to-day he was real, human, a part 
of herself. The maternal element in every 
woman’s love for man was in this woman in- 
tensified slightly by the fact that she had no child 
to be mother to — greatly, by the fact of the 
man’s helplessness. Though he had grown 
techy and imbittered, she was patient more 
often than she was reproachful; though the 
thought of the future dismayed her, the sug- 
gestion of separating would never have been 
hers. 

But it was on the night she mentioned her 
project to him that he wrenched the truth out. 
She spoke of it after supper. The opera was in 
its last week, and rehearsals of Japonica Jones at 
the Folly had already begun. 

Meenie,” he said, “ I think you’d be much 
happier without me. We — we can’t blink the 
matter — we don’t agree; you are always saying 
so, and it’s true. What’s the good of going on 
with it? ” 

Fler lips moved, but he wasn’t looking at her, 
and no sound came. 

It’s no fault of yours,” he added nervously; 
the circumstances are wrong. I can’t resign 


274 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 

myself to being kept by you — I never shall! 
That’s the root of all our differences. What’s 
the good of going on with it? ” 

‘‘ You want us to live apart? ” she faltered. 
Wouldn’t it be better for us both? Let us 
look at it sensibly; we needn’t make a tragedy of 
it — I should like to think we could be friends. 
. . . But I had no right to marry you. I had no 
right to marry anybody, least of all a woman on 
the stage. I can work till I die without earning 
as much as you are paid now — and with every en- 
gagement you get more.” 

“ Next time I mayn’t get so much,” she put 
in, plaintively. 

“ I’ve failed,” he exclaimed; ‘‘ I’m thirty- 
seven, and I’ve failed; you are twenty-four, and 
you’re succeeding! What promise is there in the 
future? The wife who makes money, and the 
husband a failure! I’m not the man to bear it 
well — I’ve tried — I’m too small-minded, too un- 
generous, too anything you like to call me — but 
I can’t do it! What shall we look forward to? 
We should get on worse together every year! ” 

I suppose so,” she said; we should get on 
worse together every year.” 

He took a turn about the room. 

I can’t give you your liberty back, unfortu- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 275 

nately — you will still be my wife; but if we sepa- 
rated, at least you would have peace. Better to 
be tied to a man you don’t live with than to one 
who quarrels with you all the time.” 

'' Much better,” she said. 

Now you are — angry with me? ” 

Oh, no; all you say is quite right.” 

She remembered the thoughts that had been 
in her when she went back to her old life; she 
was his comrade, his helpmate, joying to do her 
best. This was what had come of it! By his own 
words their wretchedness was due to her devo- 
tion; that he should have said it made the knowl- 
edge bitterer. A hot resentment swelled her 
heart. 

All you say is quite right,” she repeated. 
^^We made a mistake; it is better we should 
own it.” 

If we can look at the thing in the right 
spirit,” said the man more cheerfully, we shall 
both be grateful that we talked it out. Yes, we 
made a mistake, but there’s no reason why we 
should part with — with enmity. I should like to 
be of all the use I can to you always. ... I don’t 
know why we should be strangers to each other 
because we can’t get on together under the same 
roof. ... Of course, that must be as you wish, 


276 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

but, anyhow, I should like to feel that you would 
turn to me if you wanted anything that I could 
do for you/’ 

She was silent. He filled a pipe and drew at 
it in quick pulls. 

‘‘ That must be as you wish,” he said again, 
looking at her askance. 

I don’t understand what you mean,” she 
said stonily; “you don’t know ‘why we should 
be strangers ’? ” 

“ I mean I don’t know why we should never 

speak to each other any more. I We can’t 

tear the past out by the roots; we married; you 
may need a man’s help. Why shouldn’t I see 
you — as a friend — sometimes? ” 

She took a long breath. 

“ We can’t play at this, Ralph. I’ve tried to 
be a good wife to you; I’ve suffered more than 
you know lately; I’ve suffered enough to feel 
that you’ve proposed the best course, though I 
don’t think I should ever have proposed it my- 
self. I might ... I can’t say; perhaps I should 
have in time! Once I wouldn’t have believed I 
could agree so readily. We are parting because I 
have made you unhappy ” 

“Not — not you,” he stammered; “circum- 
stances! ” 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 277 

Oh, let US call things by their right names — 
because I have made you unhappy! Then let's 
part! You live your life, and I'll live mine. You 
needn't worry about me — I wasn't a child when 
we met, and I've learnt a good deal since then. 
You needn't worry about my not having my ' lib- 
erty,' either — you mean, I suppose, that I can't 
marry again. I shall never want to marry again, 
Ralph." 

‘‘You have had enough of it?" he said. 
“ Eh? " 

“ Yes, I have had enough of it." 

She played with a book, and put it down — 
took up another, and opened it to hide her eyes. 
There was a long silence. He threw himself on 
the couch and stared at the wall. The last 
lodger to come in put up the chain and mounted 
the stairs, and threw his boots out on the land- 
ing. 

“ When had it better be? " she asked 
abruptly. 

Lingham started. 

“There's no hurry, I suppose. You — it 
would be best for us to leave at the same time, 
wouldn't it? If you are going to take the flat. 
I'll arrange the matter for you." 

“ There will be nothing for you to arrange," 


278 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

she said; ‘‘ I shall live there with Miss Stewart — 
she will be very glad to have me. The sooner 
the better, now! I shall go to see her in the 
morning.’’ 

Just as you like,” he returned. 

The clock struck one. She put the book 
aside, and got up. 

'' I’m going to bed,” she said; “ good-night.” 

But the rooms were divided by folding-doors, 
and even when he slept on the couch at last she 
was afraid to sob, lest he should be awake and 
hear. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

The next afternoon was unspeakably painful 
to the man. Diffident of offering to accelerate 
her preparations for leaving him, he wandered 
about the drawing-room, listening to her pack- 
ing, and knowing how troublesome a task she 
always found it. At last he rang the bell, and 
gave the servant a shilling to go to help her. 

Even when one’s world is represented by a 
landlady one studies appearances. He wondered 
what Meenie had said, and decided to say noth- 
ing himself for fear of contradicting her. He 
winced to realize that he was considering so 
trivial a matter at such a crisis, but all the same 
he meant to leave the house in the evening be- 
fore he could be embarrassed by inquiries. 

Meenie came in from the bed-room with her 
hat and gloves on; she wore a veil, which was not 
her rule. 

Good-bye,’’ she said, without giving him 
her hand. 


279 


28o when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 


“ Good-bye/’ he said. He hesitated, and 
they looked at each other. Her hand moved in- 
cipiently, and he put out his own. 

Each wished from the depth of a heart that 
she had gone. 

He followed her down the stairs. She hur- 
ried into the cab, with an inward prayer that he 
wouldn’t speak to her again at the window. The 
little servant repeated her instructions to the 
driver, and Lingham wondered what she had 
been told: to Miss Stewart’s, or — more tactfully 
— a railway station? Mrs. Watkins was in the 
passage, and, as he turned, she said: ‘‘ Lor’, sir, 
it is sudden, isn’t it? ” He said, Yes, very! ” 
and passed her shamed. He could still hear the 
wheels. 

He knew that it was only sentiment — that 
to-morrow he would be relieved — but there was 
a lump in his throat, and the room seemed 
strangely empty all at once. He looked round 
the other, and his mouth twitched; the absence 
of familiar things was poignant to him. He hated 
himself in the consciousness that he had no right 
to the knot in his throat and the blur before his 
gaze; he would have thanked Heaven for the 
right just then — thanked Heaven, as he stood 
there, to feel that the pathos of the sight would 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 28 1 


endure, that he wasn’t moved by the transient 
tenderness of the moment. The knowledge that 
he was, forbade him to grieve while grief filled his 
eyes; he sickened at his own emotion. ‘‘ O 
God,” he said, ‘‘ what am I? I am not even true 
to myself! ” But he had been too true to him- 
self from first to last, for no man can jilt his tem- 
perament. 

It was his temperament that made him flee 
the house before she had been gone an hour; and 
it was his temperament that took him out of an 
attic in Doughty Street to the gallery of the 
Piccadilly the same night. There he looked 
across the crowd at the wife he had just parted 
from for life; and the woman whose life had been 
rent in two that afternoon sang Consequential 
Carrie to guffaws. 

He did not go to see her again. After a few 
days he felt, as he had known he would feel, a 
returning sense of tranquility; and on the fourth- 
floor flat half a mile away, the women v^ho had 
both lost their husbands made their home to- 
gether. 


CHAPTER XXIV 

It was well for Meenie that she had her pro- 
fession; it was better for her that she had been 
so fortunate in it. If she had been without occu- 
pation, or tramping to the agents’ offices now, 
she would have been wholly miserable. As she 
rallied from the wrench — as the fierceness of the 
first pain faded — she was not miserable. She 
could not be happy; she had loved him too well, 
her pride had been wounded too cruelly for her 
to be happy; but she found interest in her pur- 
suits, and tried to feel an interest in her future. 

She had attracted notice; it was shown by 
the offer from the Folly of a part which had been 
a distinct advance. In the course of the next 
few years she might reasonably expect to attain 
a prominent position — a position in which she 
would attract more notice still. Here was a 
situation in which there seemed to be all the 
potentialities of sexual disaster. She was a 
282 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 283 

woman so young that it was natural to suppose 
she would one day love again, and she was de- 
barred from marriage. We read that man was 
not made to live alone, but Adam had very few 
resources, and observation shows us that in the 
present age the statement applies much better to 
woman. Many men are made to live alone, 
though they rarely find it out till too late. But 
the average woman needs tenderness as the 
average man needs tobacco. To her it is not a 
distraction, it is a daily necessity — as was said 
long ago in a couplet. It was not surprising that 
Meenie failed to consider the contingency at this 
period; it is impossible to declare that time might 
not have tempted her — one only answers for the 
unforeseen at the altar — but it is difficult to be- 
lieve that she would ever have succumbed. 

The little girl with her blue eyes and her 
gentle voice was strong, or she would have fallen 
long before she met the man she married. The 
potentialities were for all to see, but beneath lay 
the force of character which had already served 
her well. And she had another safeguard — she 
loved him, and it would take her many years to 
forget. 

Japonica Jones ran till the spring, and dur- 
ing all the months she had no glimpse, or word. 


284 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

of him. Often when she was out she trembled 
to think that they might come face to face — she 
could not have sworn whether she feared or 
hoped it might happen — but, though they 
missed each other by ten minutes a dozen times, 
they never met. 

She took in the Chronicle, and, before she 
sat down to breakfast, looked for the Writers 
and Readers column. Dynasties might totter, 
but it would always be the Writers and Readers 
column that she looked for first; it promised her 
more excitement than any cablegram. Though 
the promise was never kept, the literary page was 
dear to her, because she knew that it was read 
regularly by Lingham. It even pleased her to 
imagine the sentiments with which he read each 
morning. Sometimes she could hear him give 
off his short laugh — rather like a bark, that laugh, 
though it had its melody in remembrance — and 
then their division was bridged by the thought 
that they were appreciating the same thing at the 
same hour. 

At last, in April, she saw his name under 
Received To-day,’’ and sped prematurely to 
the stand to buy the book. Athirst, she ob- 
tained a copy at the publisher’s. The opening 
chapters had been written before he cast her off, 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 285 

and her keenest emotion lay in reading the rest. 
The work that followed was the voice, the mind, 
of him after she had gone, and she pored over it, 
tracing the rills of reflection to their source, lis- 
tening for murmurs of significance that were not 
there, peering between the lines into the mood 
from which they flowed. 

Because she was very fond of her friend — and 
eager to hear Ralph praised — she lent the novel 
to her. Because her friend was very fond of 
Meenie — and disposed to see no merit in any- 
thing her husband did — she said limply that 
it was '' all right.’’ They had never come so near 
to sharp words. 

Nor did they ever come so near again. Act^ 
ors and actresses can seldom foretell their move- 
ments long ahead. To-day they may be settled 
in London, and to-morrow preparing to go to 
the antipodes; allusions to Melbourne or New 
York fall as trippingly from their tongues as ad- 
dresses in Brighton or Bow; and one night when 
Miss Stewart came in from the theatre where she 
was playing, there was food for discussion. 

My dear,” exclaimed Meenie, as she en- 
tered, “ what do you think I have been offered 
this evening? ” 

Lead at the Lane,” said Miss Stewart 
19 


286 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 


promptly, for she could make a joke now. You 
have such a commanding presence.’’ 

They’re sending Japonica to New York in 
the autumn, and they have asked me if I would 
like to go over with it! I don’t know what to 
say. ... I don’t think I should.” 

'' Why not? ” asked the other. ‘‘ It would be 
the best thing for you. Why shouldn’t you 
go?” 

To put the Atlantic between herself and 
Lingham was one objection, but the woman was 
loath to acknowledge that even in her thoughts. 

‘‘ I should miss you so,” she said. 

You’ll probably miss me anyhow. I don’t 
expect I shall be able to stay long in town; when 
I’m on tour, you’ll have the flat to yourself.” 

And that’s another thing,” said Meenie. 

What about the flat? It costs a lot to live in 
New York, doesn’t it? I don’t know if I should 
be able to pay my share of the rent while I was 
away.” 

Well, of course you wouldn’t pay your 
share while you were away. What an idea! Be- 
sides, if you go, I sha’n’t renew the agreement. 
I’ve been thinking. I don’t want the place, see- 
ing that I shall be in the provinces six or eight 
months out of the year. I’m not like you — 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 287 

you'll come back to the West End; you're get- 
ting on." 

I shall owe a lot of it to you, if I do; you 

have taught me heaps, Lucy. It's funny " 

She hesitated. 

‘‘ Oh, you may say it," said Miss Stewart. 
'' It's funny that I can tell you how things ought 
to be done, and yet not be able to do them 
myself. You'll find plenty of people in the pro- 
fession like that. I’ve the instinct — I see how an 
effect can be made; but when I try to make it 
myself. I'm awkward. If you imitated me you 
would be awkward, too, but you don't; you see 
what I mean, and do it gracefully. . . . Now 
don't be a goose; tell them to-morrow that you'll 
go. What are the terms? " 

I didn't ask. I suppose they ought to be 
more to go to America, oughtn't they? " 

Certainly they ought ; it's always more for 
America. And you had better buy everything 
you're likely to want before you sail — and wear 
it first, too — clothes cost a fortune in the States! 
. . . A change like that is just what you need; 
it will keep you from brooding." 

I don't brood," said Meenie, flushing; I 
don’t know why you should say such a thing! " 
But she knew perfectly, and it was for this 


288 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

reason — because she despised herself for clinging 
to the city that held her husband — that she 
found the courage to say ‘‘ Yes ’’ next day. 

Many times during the summer she wished 
that she had not ; once or twice, but for the fear 
of betraying her weakness to Miss Stewart, she 
would have tried to annul the contract. As 
September drew near her aversion increased. 
She was going with strangers to a strange coun- 
try, and leaving behind everything except bitter 
memories. Now she would have cancelled the 
contract and defied her friend's rebukes, but it 
was too late. It seemed to her that, alone and so 
far away, her thoughts would be harder to bear. 
She hoped that America would scorn the produc- 
tion, and that the company would be sent back 
in a week. 

One evening, when her departure was very 
near indeed, an impulse was too strong to be 
denied, and carelessly — so carelessly that the 
other had no suspicion — she proposed a stroll. 
The two women sauntered round Russell Square 
into Southampton Row, and came to the big 
lamp-post of Guilford Street. Now the elder 
understood, and affected unconsciousness of 
where she was being led. Meenie turned the 
corner, talking rapidly; it was the first time she 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 289 

had entered the street since the afternoon last 
year when she drove away. The hotel was much 
higher now, but, beyond, the road was being 
mended, and she could see patches of familiar 
scaffolding. 

Presently they approached the house. Miss 
Stewart, who remembered the number very well, 
was silent, and more unmindful still. Meenie 
looked lingeringly at the windows. Behind the 
dirty curtains the gaselier was ablaze; she won- 
dered who lived in the rooms now. Her foot- 
steps lagged — she would have liked to stop; the 
house was passed too quickly, and she felt a new 
sense of loss. 

When they reached the Foundling, Miss 
Stewart said: 

Shall we turn back? Pm rather tired.’’ 

Just as you like,” answered Meenie, care- 
less, too. 

And though Miss Stewart knew, and Meenie 
knew that she must know, neither admitted to 
the other by any words they had not been taking 
an aimless walk. Only they were quieter than 
usual when they sat at home again, and when 
they said “ good-night ” Meenie put her arms 
round her friend’s neck and kissed her. 


CHAPTER XXV 

To Lingham the year during which Meenie 
lived with Miss Stewart had not been void of in- 
struction. After that returning sense of tran- 
quility — after his renewed enjoyment in work 
which again sufficed for his needs — he had learnt 
that the past is irrecoverable. In theory he had 
known it; in practice it was a strange lesson. He 
had set back the clock, but he had not regained 
the spirit of the time. He had shaken himself 
free, but the buoyancy of freedom was absent. 
His wife had gone; materially his life was the life 
of the period before he knew her; but externals 
could no more restore the serenity of the period 
to him than to play with a top could make him 
feel fourteen. 

At first the knowledge of his loneliness was 
fitful; he shrank from regret as he had shrunk 
from it in the hour of the good-bye, distrustful 
of his own emotions. It was slowly he awoke to 
290 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 29I 

the perception that though he might draw a 
chair to the hearth, and open a book in silence, 
the contentment of solitude had been outlived. 
It was by degrees he realized that though a fool 
can put a woman’s arms from him, only God can 
still the thought of her. ♦ 

He missed her; he missed her more than he 
would credit for a long while. Even while they 
were happy together he had not dreamed that 
her loss would tear so deep a cleft in his life. He 
had not known she was so dear to him. Perhaps 
she had not been so dear. And because she was 
still ' living she throbbed in his memory always. 
If he had lost her by death, his world would have 
blossomed over the fissure sooner; when the lips 
are dumb the echoes grow faint; but alive, she 
haunted him. 

As long as she was playing in town he could 
know that she was not ill ; and while she remained 
at the Folly, the Chronicle’s advertisement of 
the theatre showed him her name each day. As 
the woman had sought regularly for his in the 
Writers and Readers column, so the man looked 
for hers on the fourth page. And every morning 
he read that his wife was well — under the clock 
that completed the record of two. 

After Japonica Jones finished, the Chronicle 


292 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

gave him no further news of her. It was when he 
was denied the daily sight of her name that he 
realized how precious it had become. The paper 
was foreign to him, and their division yawned . 
more blankly. One Saturday he bought the Era, 
and by this he learnt that she had gone to New 
York. He paled; the paragraph struck him with 
dismay. Now it seemed to him that while Lon- 
don held them both there had been an impalpable 
link between them. He reread the paragraph 
mechanically a dozen times; and in the con- 
sciousness that he could not see her, that all 
chance of their meeting was removed, he felt for- 
lorn when he went out. 

Nor did he ever forget that she had gone 
from the city when he walked. It was revealed 
to him that hitherto his eyes had always been 
eager in the streets, that deep in his heart there 
had lurked a faint expectation of something he 
had not defined — something that could never 
happen now. He could throw doubts on his sin- 
cerity no longer; he had ceased to try; and he 
knew that, though he had made a rash marriage, 
he had loved his wife. 

Through the winter he often bought the Era 
or the Stage, but he gathered no tidings of her 
from either. Between him and Parlett her name 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 293 

was never mentioned, and he remained ignorant 
whether she had come back to England or not. 
Then, with the spring, his interest in New York 
was emphasized by a surprisng letter forwarded 
to him by Mr. Alport. It was as if his luck had 
turned too late: 

“Hawthorne Theatre, 

“ New York, N. Y. 

Dear Sir: I have read with much enjoy- 
ment your novel called Angela Brown, Pub- 
lisher. It might be converted into a very enter- 
taining comedy. I should be glad to hear from 
you by an early mail if you are disposed to sub- 
mit a dramatic version of your book to me. If 
you conclude to do so, the MS. shall receive my 
immediate attention. Yours truly, 

“ Ellis M’Crea.” 

Ellis M’Crea was almost as well known to 
theatrical London as to America. Even Ling- 
ham had often heard him mentioned. He was 
the manager of two of the principal theatres of 
New York, and the fountain head of a score of 
dramatic enterprises. No more encouraging in- 
vitation could have been received, and the au- 
thor’s impulse was to post the comedy to him 
immediately. A chat with Parlett, however, 
made it clear that this would be indiscreet. 


294 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

“ If you do/’ said the playwright, ‘‘ you will 
give it a black eye before he looks at it, for he’ll 
guess that it has been refused in twenty quarters 
already. Say you’ll start work on it at once, and 
send a clean copy of it to him in a month’s time. 
Trust to poppa! ” 

So Lingham wrote that he would be pleased 
to submit a stage version of the novel a few 
weeks hence, and when he came to reread the 
version that was made, he was thankful that he 
had taken advice. It was nearly two years since 
he had studied the manuscript, and he saw scope 
for various improvements — several lines that ap- 
peared to him clumsy, one scene which after a 
fortnight of indecision he decided to eliminate. 

It was in the first act; in the book it did not 
exist at all, but — though he hated to delete it — 
he feared that it would have become the book 
better than the play. It seemed to him too deli- 
cate, too literary, for the footlights; he dreaded 
lest, coming so early in the piece, it should prej- 
udice M’Crea against the rest. Parlett’s warn- 
ing to him had begotten timidity, and he was 
even afraid that if he were tedious in the opening 
pages, the manuscript might be tossed aside 
without further perusal. 

He tore the sheets out — only two of them. 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 295 

but it was like losing his heart’s blood. So 
pretty a scene, although it delayed the entrance 
of the ’osses! He polished, and repolished, and 
scrutinized again; and when the typewriting 
office had done its work, he despatched the four 
acts to M’Crea, and counted the days. 

And in May came another envelope stamped 
‘‘ Hawthorne Theatre, N. Y. C.”; and he found 
with something like stupefaction — for he would 
soon be forty, and he had never had any good 
fortune in his life — that an agreement was in- 
closed for his consideration. 

With publishers’ proposals he was familiar — 
he had one that he preserved as a curiosity — but 
of such agreements as this he knew nothing, and 
now Parlett’s experience v/as invaluable. The 
coolness with which Parlett ran his pen through 
clauses and scribbled figures in the margin filled 
the novice at once with gratitude and misgiving; 
and when it was stipulated that the piece should 
be produced within twelve months or a hundred 
pounds forfeited, he began to feel that M’Crea 
would write a very rude reply. 

Nevertheless M’Crea’s native politeness, or 
the justice of the alterations, averted friction. 
The amendments were accepted; and by a note 
which accompanied the new contract Lingham 


296 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

learnt that the comedy was to be put on at the 
Hawthorne as early as next fall — in another 
word, the autumn. 

He was still unaware whether Meenie had re- 
turned. If he had bought the theatrical journals 
as systematically as he had looked for her name 
in the newspaper he would have known where 
she was. Thinking that she might be playing in 
New York yet, the idea of going over there to 
attend the rehearsals of his piece fascinated him 
doubly. 

There were no monetary difficulties in the 
way; he was spending little more than his salary, 
and his recent royalties from Alport would amply 
suffice for the purpose. The prospect thrilled 
him. On the public’s reception of the piece hung 
his future, and he would be there to listen to the 
verdict. He knew that he was building on the 
play for more than some thousands of pounds, 
for more than the triumphant entrance to a 
fresh and lucrative career; he knew that he was 
building on it to give him back his wife. If it 
succeeded, he would go to her; he would ask 
her forgiveness; he would own what life had been 
without her, and implore her to trust her happi- 
ness to him again. The uneventful summer 
dragged distressingly. In August he counted 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 297 

the clays from mail to mail; and when September 
reached its end, and there was silence still, he 
could bear anxiety no longer. He wrote an 
eager inquiry. He was startled to Learn by the 
answer that his comedy was already in rehearsal. 

Though he had not informed the manager of 
his intention to go over, he had taken it for 
granted that he would hear from him in good 
time; he was chagrined to feel that he had lost 
many sweet days. He was, however, more cha- 
grined in the course of a few hours, for soon 
afterward a cablegram was delivered stating that 
another play was to be the next production, 
after all. 

Another! He flung the message in the 
fender with a gasp. Parlett had known his 
world! Yes; and very likely another, and yet 
another play, would be put on first. After his 
hopes, and thanksgivings, and expectations, all 
he might get out of the contract was the forfeit ! 
Fortunately he had not booked a berth, but his 
disappointment blackened the sunshine to him. 
When he went to the office, Mr. Hunt said. 
How soon do you mean to start, Lingham? 
The question was a lance. In the evening he re- 
ceived some clothes. He had ordered them in 
anticipation of his journey, and he mused bitterly 


2gS WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

that they would be worn out before the journey 
was made. 

A month passed ; and when confidence was re- 
viving in him, and he was beginning to put faith 
in the spring, there came a second cablegram; 

‘‘ Produce Angela, i6th instant. — M'Crea.’’ 

In the first few moments he only knew that 
the date was convulsively near; then he made out 
that it meant a Wednesday — that it meant a 
week from the morrow! He was a little dizzy. 
So the other man’s play had proved a failure? 
Pie had not taken that contingency into account. 
He tried to be sorry for him, but rejoicing 
flooded his soul. He ran from the house and 
sprang into a hansom, and secured a passage by 
a boat that sailed the following afternoon. The 
clerk told him that she was due in New York 
on Tuesday. He might miss the last of the re- 
hearsals, but he would arrive in time for the first 
night ! 

Mr. Plunt bade him an rcvoir, and wished him 
luck. In Belsize Avenue there were more con- 
gratulations. His packing was the work of half 
an hour, and in the morning, as he sped to 
Euston, the jingle of the horse’s bell made music 
to his ears. 

Liverpool! The crowd of tired spectators at 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O^ THE WINDOW 299 

the intermediate taffrail, the yawning hold, the 
shouts ashore, the bustle and the questions on 
the boat. Everywhere the American accent! 
Would these people see his play? He was led to 
his cabin, and wondered how he would contrive 
to find it again. He returned to the deck; confu- 
sion reigned there still. Why didn't the boat 
start? He was irritated by the view across the 
vessel's side, eager to feel they moved. There 
was the welcome throb, the receding quay. The 
voyage had begun. 

But abortively. There came the stoppage at 
Queenstown, the delay there, the disconcerting 
news that the brilliant passages of five days and 
a half were reckoned from Queenstown, and not 
from Liverpool. “ Why ignore the eighteen in- 
tervening hours?" he demanded; ‘^everybody 
didn't live in Ireland! " ‘‘ Ocean steaming! " he 
was answered, and tried to persuade himself that 
he had just come aboard.. 

Still they were to land on Tuesday. So let 
them hang about the ports — what did it matter? 
When they had finished fooling, and torn them- 
selves away, they must go to work and make 
the time good. After the morning on which he 
learnt that the day's run was posted at noon for 
the satisfaction of the curious, and the settlement 


300 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

of sweepstakes, he was always among the first 
who bolted down the companion to see what it 
had been. When it fell from four hundred and 
fifty-six knots to four hundred and forty-four, his 
spirits fell in proportion. 

And on Sunday the boat stopped again. 
What for now? No one knew. He sauntered to 
and fro, fuming. Two hours, three hours crept 
by before she moved. He prayed that the next 
run posted would equalize matters, but he trem- 
bled; and when he looked on Monday it had 
fallen to figures of dismay. The other men dis- 
persed, grumbling. The appearance of the cap- 
tain was the signal for loungers to quicken their 
steps, and women in deck chairs to drop their 
books, and for everybody to say, When do 
you think we shall get in, captain? ’’ 

Impatience quivered in Lingham. The 
thought of landing to-morrow was dead, and al- 
ready he was sick with the fear that they might 
not arrive by Wednesday night. There were 
moments when the lethargic pulsations of the 
sluggish steamer maddened him; when the 
limitless waste of sunlit sea filled him with 
rage. His play! Suspense fevered his blood; 
the curtain might rise on his play before he was 
there! 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 3OI 

Then he understood. He heard that there 
was a flaw in the propeller shaft, and that to 
steam slowly was their only chance of avoiding 
a breakdown. His sole comfort was that the 
flaw hadn’t occurred earlier in the voyage! They 
might touch New York by Wednesday still? In 
the afternoon — the evening? In time for him 
to reach the theatre? In time, at least, for him 
to see half the play? Then the last act, if no 
more? O God, be merciful! the last act, if noth- 
ing else! They must be so close, so close! A 
spurt might do it. Couldn’t they make a spurt? 
He wrung his hands. What if they did break 
down? Near the harbour it would be cheap 
enough to be towed in ! 

And leisurely, leisurely, the steamer took her 
course; and Wednesday’s sunshine faded, and 
the moon rose, and they were still at sea. Be- 
yond the sullen water the theatre was filling! He 
leant forward in the silence, tense with the fan- 
cied tuning of the band. Over there his work 
was fighting for his wife; he stared through the 
gloom, imagining, questioning. Were there 
hisses, or applause? On a sudden he remem- 
bered reading that in New York an audience 
were too courteous to hiss — they stole from their 

seats; perhaps the people were stealing from 
20 


302 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 

them now! The sweat burst out on him, and he 
quaked in his very soul. 

He looked at his watch; the first act must 
have ended! Starboard, where he walked, was 
deserted; a chill wind swept it, and the men who 
were not below smoked on the other side. Hour 
after hour he paced the deck alone, as act by act 
his play was cheered or damned. All that even- 
ing he shook with the thought that conquest 
meant his plea to Meenie — that she must, she 
should, forgive! The ship’s bells broke sharply 
on the hush in midnight; the curtain must have 
fallen now — the lights were out. Had he won, or 
lost? The fight was finished — and his wife the 
prize. He grew conscious that he was very cold; 
the stars shone serenely, and, shivering, he 
sought a message in them. All his pulses craved 
it. Had he won, or lost? 

But there was none to tell him till the mor- 
row. When he woke, the coast was clear and 
the pilot in command. The passengers flocked 
from their cabins, he with the rest. Around him 
there was laughter, but he could not laugh; anx- 
iety held him voiceless. America stretched to 
greet them. The Statue of Liberty rose tri- 
umphant in the port. Glasses were levelled, and 
borrowed. Women disappeared, and returned 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 303 

looking different in bonnets and veils. The 
health boat approached, and grew big; he gasped 
to hear the morning papers were inside. Nearer 
and nearer drew the boat; he could see the white 
sheaf of papers under a man’s arm. The officers 
swarmed aboard. There was a clamour for the 
news. He rushed to where the bundle was be- 
sieged. 

The man cried: '' Herald? Sun? World? 
Tribune ? Which do you want ? ” 

All,” he said, all! ” and grasped them with 
a prayer. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Success! The head-lines leapt from the 
sheet. ‘‘ Biggest Kind of a Hit at the Haw- 
thorne — M’Crea Discovers a New English 
Dramatist.’’ The journal shook in his clutch. 

Enthusiastic Plaudits by a Delighted Multi- 
tude.” God bless America! One after another 
he read the morning criticisms while the steamer 
floated closer to the quay, and often he had to 
pause because the columns swam together. 

He could ask Meenie to leave the stage and 
to come back to him! He could give her all she 
needed, more than she would relinquish; already 
eight pounds a week was insignificant to his 
view. He would go to her to-day if she were in 
New York — directly he had seen M’Crea! He 
realized that the papers should show him if she 
was playing in the city, and he rustled the Plerald 
impetuously. The light, unfamiliar type of the 
advertisements was blurred for a moment, and 
304 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 305 

primarily he distinguished nothing. Then he 
perceived that the theatres here printed no com- 
plete list of the players; few of them mentioned 
more than their star.’’ So he could gain no in- 
formation from the page. He was disappointed. 
The next instant her name flashed out in capital 
letters: ‘‘ Meenie Weston — Watteau Theatre — 
Last Nights of The Lady and the Lilac.” His 
heart missed a beat. 

He looked long at the name which had all at 
once so strange an air. Then she must be well 
known now; she had sprung into prominence? 
There could hardly be another “ Meenie 
Weston ” on the stage? His excitement sank a 
little; a breath of misgiving cooled his joy. In 
his reveries her circumstances had remained the 
same, and the revolution confused him; his mind 
would not adjust itself immediately to the un- 
foreseen. 

From the bustle of the custom-house he 
stood aloof; his portmanteau lay awhile un- 
claimed. Then he noticed it, and produced his 
keys, and saw the chalk flourished. His belong- 
ings were hoisted to a cab, and he was bumped 
over the cobbled roads toward the hotel which 
had been recommended to him. 

The drive was a short one, but the fare re- 


3o6 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 

quired was staggering even in his abstraction. 
The high, wide window, descending almost to 
the pavement, imparted to the exterior of the 
hotel the aspect of a shop in which they exposed 
for sale nothing but chairs and men's legs. A 
churl at the desk admitted that he could stay 
there if he liked; and the first lift he had entered 
in a country where they understand that a lift is 
intended to save time — though they waste time 
by the name they give it — shot him to a room in 
which he could order everything from a fire- 
engine to a sherry-cobbler by pressing buttons. 

It was only ten o'clock. Though he was im- 
patient to obtain a verbal account of the produc- 
tion, it would be futile to present himself at the 
theatre so early. In his eagerness on the boat he 
had swallowed nothing this morning but a cup of 
coffee, and he awoke to the fact that he was ex- 
tremely hungry. He went down to the dining- 
room, and learnt what a breakfast ought to be; 
but he wished that the waiter hadn't brought 
him all the courses at once. 

In the hall he bought a cigar, and picked up a 
periodical that lay there. Her name startled his 
eyes again. The ‘ Meenie Weston '! We in- 
troduce a very striking trimmed velvet hat, a 
creation from our own workroom. Simple, but 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 307 

a simplicity with a most attractive effect.” . . . 
And once more: “The Meenie Weston Belt; 
made of gray suede, white calf, patent leather, 
and black seal. Gilt buckles. Fifty cents each, 
worth $1.25,” ... Yes, his wife had become 
well known! 

He put the periodical down, and sauntered 
out into the streets. Misgiving blew bleakly in 
him now. These things meant popularity; they 
meant public adulation. What if she were un- 
willing to come back to him? It seemed to him 
suddenly that he had very little to offer her. 
She must be paid a large salary, admired, flat- 
tered — possibly loved! The colour left his face. 
She had touched her apex — the apex of the 
opera-bouffe stage — and she was alone; he had 

neglected her. Supposing No, no, by 

Heaven! he knew her too thoroughly to tremble 
for that. But there might be another man she 
liked — one to whom she would have wished to 
go! She might be chafing at the tie that hin- 
dered her. And the man — the man! The man 
would be strong only to oppose her virtue. Oh, 
he knew well what the man would say! He 
heard himself described in her lover’s appeals — 
a husband who had never valued her, who had left 
her to temptation with a shrug, a cad who was 


308 when love flies out O’ THE WINDOW 

unworthy her rerriembrance. A furious hatred 
of the unknown man assailed him, a longing to 
grip him by his throat and feel him writhe. 

A hoarding displayed her to him abruptly — a 
vast poster from which she smiled on the world. 
He stood and stared at it. Though it told him 
nothing of the woman’s thoughts, the sight of 
the actress’s gaiety was painful to him. She 
laughed through a lilac-bush, her arms bearing 
down the boughs. The poster was a patch of 
vivid blue, the blossoming tree, and Meenie. 

Presently he inquired of a policeman — fat, 
florid, arrogant, twirling his staff — in which di- 
rection the Hawthorne Theatre lay. The police- 
man said sharply, How’s that? ” and when the 
question was repeated, added with a scowl. 
Through the park.” 

Lingham strolled on. He came to no park, 
and it did not occur to him to associate the term 
with a square he saw. In perplexity, at last he 
ventured to apply to a business man evidently 
in a hurry. The business man in a hurry offered 
to turn back and conduct him to where he wished 
to go. 

Information sufficed, however, and in a 
few minutes he had reached the house. He went 
to the box-office, and, when he mentioned his 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 309 

name, was told that M’Crea was on the stage. 
Would he go round, or should the clerk let the 
manager know he was there? He answered that 
he would “ go round.” 

His card brought M’Crea to the door effu- 
sively, a gaunt, loosely clothed man of middle 
age, with twinkling eyes. 

“ My dear sir, I am pleased to meet you,” he 
exclaimed. “Why didn’t you come last night? 
You have missed a treat, Mr. Lingham. You 
have seen the notices, I guess? Sir, the piece 
went with a bang. I congratulate you. We 
have got a fortune here, sir, and don’t you forget 
it! There is a call this morning for just a few 
points; come right in! ” 

He led the way through a passage. The 
company had already assembled, and Ling- 
ham found himself presented, not undramati- 
cally; 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, the author of the 
piece!” 

There was general surprise and gratification; 
the principal members came forward, with ex- 
tended hands, and felicitated him on his success. 
The leading lady told him her part was “ just 
lovely ”; and everybody demanded the reason he 
had not come last night, the name of the boat 


310 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

he had crossed by, and what he thought of 
America. 

‘‘ Will you go in front, Mr. Lingham,” said 
M’Crea, or will you remain right here, sir? ’’ 

‘‘ I think ril go in the stalls,’’ said Lingham, 
pointing, and the prompter took him down to 
the seats he had misnamed. 

The manager pulled some typewritten memo- 
randa from his pocket briskly. 

“ We will run through Act One,” he said. 

There are several points that dragged in Act 
One; that business with the letter made me tired. 
See here, this thing has got to go like clock- 
work.” 

The rehearsal began; and alone in the audi- 
torium, viewing the bare, ill-lighted stage, Ling- 
ham saw the characters of his creation simulated 
by men and women who resembled them not at 
all. His emotion was deep disappointment. It 
was in vain he reminded himself that they were 
not dressed for the parts, that they weren’t made 
up; he could not feel that the power of clothes, 
and paint, and false hair was strong enough to 
endow even one of them with any likeness to his 
mental pictures. But in America they act at 
rehearsals. Gradually he lost sight of the fact 
that these were strangers pretending to be An- 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O' THE WINDOW 31I 

gela and her companions; he began to accept 
their own statements. That was said just as the 
Angela of his heart had said it! That was just 
what Angela would have done! Interest suc- 
ceeded disillusion; he leant forward eagerly; he 
was charmed — he wanted to clap his hands. 

Then, on a sudden, all his pleasure was swal- 
lowed in amazement; they were speaking the 
lines he had sacrificed, the lines of the two pages 
he had cut out. 

“ No, no! ” he cried, involuntarily. 

“ How’s that? ” said M’Crea, looking down. 
“ One moment, ladies and gentlemen! What is 
wrong, Mr. Lingham? ” 

“ That scene isn’t in,” stammered Lingham, 
rising; the company all pausing for his correc- 
tion, the sound of his voice dominating the the- 
atre disconcerted him. “ That scene is not 
played ! ” 

“ I guess so,” replied M’Crea; “ it was played 
last night — and it seemed pretty healthy then. 
With your permission, we will let it go at that.” 

Lingham murmured confusedly, and sat 
down again. He listened bewildered. He had 
destroyed the pages with his own hands ; by what 
magic did they come here? In the manuscript he 
had forwarded they didn’t exist; in only two 


312 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

manuscripts had they ever existed. From one 
he had torn them; . . . the other — the knowl- 
edge rushed through him — the other had be- 
longed to Meenie! 

To Meenie! Only Meenie had had this scene. 

, . . But how could M’Crea have known she had 
it? Even if she rejoiced to hear the piece was 
coming out, why should she have written to him 
to say she had a copy? ... Yet she had done 
something of the kind — it was plain, luminous! 
Then she must care a little still; it was proof she 
wasn't indifferent! 

He ceased to attend to the rehearsal; he was 
engrossed by conjecture. When he was joined 
by M'Crea at last, he complimented him on his 
stage management in a breath, and blurted his 
astonishment : 

Mr. M'Crea," he said, I have nothing 
against that scene — on the contrary, it was a fa- 
vourite scene of mine; I cut it out simply be- 
cause I was afraid it was in the way. But I did 
cut it out! I never sent it to you; and it wasn't 
in the novel. If you have no objection to tell- 
ing me, I should very much like to hear how you 
got it.” 

What’s the matter with the scene, any- 
how? ” returned the manager. You are the 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O* THE WINDOW 313 

first author I ever struck who had his knife into 
one of his own scenes. Queerest thing I ever 
heard in my life! 

Lingham looked at him doubtfully. ‘‘ Will 
you answer another question, then?’’ he said. 

Did Miss Meenie Weston come to any of the 
rehearsals? ” 

She did not, sir,” said M’Crea; never 
one!” 

You know her? ” 

“‘Know her’? Well, I guess all N’York 
knows her — as an artiste. Meenie Weston, sir, 
has been as fortunate on this side as one of our 
Amwrrican belles has lately been on yours; she 
had no position to speak of at home, and in 
N’York she became the rage. Yes, sir, I know 
Meenie Weston, and a sweet, good, honest little 
woman she is! Take it from her manager. If 
you are keen on seeing her performance, I shall 
be pleased to accommodate you at the Watteau 
on any evening you like to name.” 

“ Oh, the Watteau is yours, too,” said Ling- 
ham, “is it? I didn’t know. No, never mind 
the ticket, thanks. Will you tell me where she is 
staying? I want to call.” 

M’Crea scribbled on an envelope. 

“ You will do me the justice to inform Miss 


314 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

Weston that I gave you her address at your re- 
quest,” he said — “ And to repeat our conversa- 
tion. Will you lunch, Mr. Lingham? No? 
Well, shake! ” 

Lingham grasped his hand, and they made 
their way together to the street. Here the route 
was indicated to the nearest “ deepot ” of the 
elevated railway. He strode on excitedly; ac- 
tivity was a delight. The mildness of the “ In- 
dian summer ” was past, but the rigour of the 
winter had not begun, and the clear, keen air 
was inspiriting. To his new mood the city, in its 
crystal atmosphere, compelled exhilaration. The 
Londoner noted how definite, how clean-cut 
were all the objects that met his view, how truly 
one saw everything for once. And everything 
arrested his attention. The splashes of bright 
colour made by the fruit-stalls at occasional cor- 
ners; the public platforms on which men reclined 
in elaborate chairs while a negro polished their 
boots with a strip of flannel; even the perfect 
fashion in which the women wore the pink roses 
in their jackets— not at all in the English style, 
not much like the French — each detail stamped 
itself on him now. Broadway was a narrow 
stream of traffic, and in perspective the roofs of 
the swiftly gliding cars looked like white parasols 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 315 

floating in a line. He mounted the steps of the 
depot, and in the corridor-train which flew past 
the first-floor windows sat between a society 
woman and a Chinese laundryman till he heard 
that he had to get out. 

Meenie’s address was at an hotel at the corner 
of Seventy-second Street and Lexington Ave- 
nue. He inquired nervously if she was in. 

“ I guess not,” said the clerk. “ What name 
shall I say? ” 

“ Say her — say ‘ Mr. Lingham,’ ” he an- 
swered. “ Stop, I’ll send up my card.” And he 
wrote on it, “ May I see you? ” 

While he waited his agitation increased. He 
wondered if, after all, he hadn’t argued too much 
from her interest in the piece; he asked himself 
why he had dared to suppose she would make the 
sacrifice he had come to ask. A page boy re- 
lieved the tension. She was at home. The ur- 
chin led him to a lift and across a landing, and 
rapped at a door. 

Her voice said “ Come in.” 

She was standing. Her face was very pale, 
and there was no smile in her eyes. His impres- 
sion was of an older woman than he had expected 
to see ; the interval had robbed her of her girlish- 


ness. 


3i6 when love flies out O’ the window 

Meenie! ” he said. . . . ‘‘I — it was good of 
you to let me come up. I — I arrived this morn- 
ing. IVe been hoping you were here.'’ 

She did not speak. He held his hat awkward- 
ly, and there was a moment's pause. He was 
conscious that she had acquired an air of wealth, 
of Hshion; it added to his constraint. He put 
the hat aside, and moved toward her with slow 
steps. 

Won't you say something? " he asked. 

Are you sorry I've come? " 

I was surprised," she said quietly; ‘‘ I had 
no idea you were in America." 

I came over for the production, but the 
boat was late. So you have got on, eh? More 
than we ever thought about! You deserved it." 

Thank you," she said. ‘‘ I was glad to read 
of the success of your play. . . . Won't you sit 
down?" 

I have just found out you were generous 
enough to take an interest in it," he murmured. 
Her brows contracted sharply, and her eyelids 
fell. ‘‘ I can't tell you what that meant to me! 
I — words sound very stupid sometimes — I am 
grateful." He was standing before her still, and 
now he drew close to her side. I was coming 
to you anyhow; and when I found you hadn't 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 317 


forgotten me, I thought — I fancied Meenie, 

IVe been sorry every day since you went! IVe 
missed you horribly! I was a fool, a beast! IVe 
been ashamed. ... Is it absurd to ask if you 
can forgive me? ’’ 

'' What I had to forgive,’’ she replied, looking 
at the ground, I forgave long ago. We sepa- 
rated because we wished it; there’s no need for 
you or me to be ashamed.” 

'' You mean — ” he said, you mean *that 
you’re content? ” 

‘‘ I mean that what we did was wise.” She 
met his gaze. '' We have known it all the time.” 

I haven’t known it! ” he cried. “ You may 
have known it — not I. After you had gone I 
hated myself; I saw how much I’d cared for you. 
It’s difficult to speak — to beg you to trust to me 
again is to beg you to give up so much now — 
but I love you. I made M’Crea tell me where 
you were; I hoped to persuade you to come back 
to me.” 

I am sorry,” she answered; ‘‘ I was afraid, 
when I saw your name, that you had come for 
that. I hoped you wouldn’t say it.” 

'' Your position is so dear to you? ” he mut- 
tered blankly; ‘‘or can’t you forget how I be- 
haved? ” 


21 


3I8 when love flies out O’ the window 

‘‘ No,” she said, ‘‘ my position is not so dear 
to me; but I understand too well. . . . I tried to 
prevent all this. I was glad to be of use because 
— because I remembered all the hopes we had 
had together, but I never meant you to know 
what rd done. If M’Crea had kept his promise 
to me, you wouldn’t have known. You say you 
love me — perhaps even for an hour you think it 
— but your first word was the right one; you are 
grateful, and that’s all.” 

What is it,” said Lingham, ‘‘ that you think 
I’m grateful for? ” 

'‘Oh,” she exclaimed, "don’t sham to me! 
Do you suppose I don’t know what has brought 
you here? Do you suppose I’ve no pride? Do 
you take me for a child, that you come and 
talk to me like this? ‘Love’? You thought 
of me as I -used to be; you imagined me a 
foolish girl, wretched without you; you said, 
' I owe it all to her, so I must go and make 
amends ’! ” 

He did not cry out; he made no movement; 
he stood staring at her dumbly. She saw she 
had divulged the truth to him herself. 

At last he said: 

" If I owe it all to you, Meenie, I am glad. 
I didn’t know it, though, believe me. I only 


WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 3 IQ 

came because I loved you. ... Tell me what 
you did? 

‘‘ It was I who first showed the piece to 
him/' she faltered. '' He liked it. And then I 
told him who you were, and that he mustn't men- 
tion me. . . . That was why he wrote about the 
book — he couldn't say that he had read the 
play." She turned from him trembling — the 
tears were in his eyes. 

'' I wish I had been worthier," he whispered. 

It was nothing," said the woman. 

There was silence. When he could trust his 
voice: 

'' I only came because I loved you," he re- 
peated. It meant you to me from the begin- 
ning; from the first moment I thought of you 
and hoped. When I read the notices I was mad 
to find you. Then I learnt what you had be- 
come, and I was afraid. At the rehearsal there 
was a scene I hadn't sent — I knew that you had 
had it; but that was all — on my honour, it was 
all! . . . Meenie, I wanted success because I 
wanted you; it's no good to me without you. 
You have given me the success — won't you give 
me your love again? I'll do my best to deserve 
you, I swear I will! . . . Will you come back 
to me? ” 


320 WHEN LOVE FLIES OUT O’ THE WINDOW 

He waited because she couldn't speak. Her 
face was still averted, but he saw the throb- 
bing in her throat. Her hand sought his blind- 
ly; she drew it close to her, and held it to her 
heart. 


THE END 


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166. The Marriage of Esther. By G. 

Boothby. 

167. Fidelis. By A. Cambridge. 

168. Into the Highways and Hedges. By 

F. F. Montresor. 

169. TheVengeance of James Vansittart. 

By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

170. A Study in Prejudices. By G. 

Paston. 

171. The Mistress of Quest. By A. Ser- 

geant. 

172. In the Year of Jubilee. By G. Gts- 

SING. 

173. In Old New England. By H. 

Butterworth. 

174. Mrs. Musqrave — and Her Husband. 

By R. Marsh. 

175. Not Counting the Cost. By Tasma. 

176. Out of Due Season. By A. Ser- 

geant. 

177. Scylla or Chat'ybdis? By R. 

Broughton. 

178. In Defiance of the King. By C. C. 

TT xTTT’ TQ a 

179. A Bid for Fortune. By G. 

Boothby. 

180. The King of Andaman. By J. M. 
Cobban. 

181. Mrs. Tregaskiss. By Mrs. Camp- 

bell-Prakd. 

182. The Desire of the Moth. By C. 

Vane. 

183. A Self-Denying Ordinance. By M. 

Hamilton. 

184. Successoi's to the Title. By Mrs. L. 

B. Walford. 

185. The Lost Stradivarius. By J. M. 

Falkner. 

186. The Wrong Man. By D. Gerard. 


187. In the Day of Adversity. By J. 

Bloundelle-Burton. 

188. Mistress Dorothy Marvin. By J. C. 

Snaith. 

189. A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. W, 

K. Clifford. 

190. The Dancer in Yellow. By W. E, 

Norris. 

191. The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt. 

By A. Morrison. 

192. A Winning Hazard. By Mrs. 

Alexander. 

193. The Picture of Las Cruces. By C. 

Reid. 

194. The Madonna of a Day. By L. 

Dougall. 

195. The Riddle Ring. By J. McCar- 

thy. 

196. A Humble Enterprise. By A. Cam- 

bridge. 

197. Dr. Nikola. By G. Boothby. 

198. An Outcast of the Islands. By J. 

Conrad. 

199. The King's Revenge. By C. Bray. 

200. Denounced. By J. Bloundelle- 

Burton. 

201. A Cmrt Intrigue. By B. Thomp- 

son. 

202. The Idol-Maker. By A. Sergeant. 

203. The Intriguers. By J. D. Barry. 

204. Master Ardick., Buccaneer. By F. 

H. Costello. 

205. With Fortune Made. By V. Cher- 

BULIEZ. 


206. Fellow Travellers. By G. Travers. 

207. McLeod of the Camerons. By M. 

Hamilton. 

208. The Career of Candida. By G. 

Paston. 

209. Arrested. By E. Stuart. 

210. Tatterley. By T. Gallon. 

211. A Pive'beck Goddess. By Mrs. J 

M. Fi.eming (A. M. Kipling). 

212. Perfection City. By Mrs. Orpen. 

213. A Spotless Reputation. By B 

C^TCTt A RIY 

214. A Galahad of the Creeks. By S. L. 

Yeats. 

215. The Beautiful White Devil. By G. 

Boothby. 

216. The Sun of Saratoga. By J. A 

Xi *1* S B[ ^ L ^ K 

217. FiercehearU the Soldier. By J. O. 

Snaith. 

218. Marietta's Marriage. By W. E. 

Norris. 


219. Dear Faustina. By R. Broughton. 

220. NUlma. By Mrs. Campbell Praed. 

221. The Folly of Pen Harrington. By 

J. Sturgis. 

222. A Colonial Free-Lance. By C. C. 

Hotchkiss. 

223. His Maiesty's Greatest Subject. By 

S. S. Thokburn. 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.— 


224. Mifamuy : A Welsh Singer. By A. 

Raine. 

225. A Soldier of Manhattan. By J. A. 

Altsheler 

226. Fortune's Footballs. By G. B. 

Burgin. 

227. The Clash of Arms. By J. Bloun- 

deele-Burton. 

228. God's Foundling. By A. J. Daw- 

son. 

229. Miss Providence. By D. Gerard. 

230. The Freedom of Henry Meredyth.- 

By M. Hamilton. 

231. Sweethearts and Friends. By M. 

Gray. 

232. Sunset. By B. Whitby. 

233. A Fiery Ordeal. By Tasma. 

234. A Prince of Mischance. ByT. Gal- 

lon. 

235. A Passionate PUgHm. By P. 

White. 

236. This Little World. By D. C. Mur- 

ray. 

237. A Forgotten Sin. By D. Gerard. 

238. The incidental Bishop. By G. 

Allen. 

239. The Lake of Wine. By B. Capes. 

240. A Trooper of the Empress. By C. 

Ross. 

241. Torn Sails. By A. Ratne. 

242. Materfamilias. '^Y A. Cambridge. 

243. John ' of Strathboarne. By R. D. 

Chetwode. 

244. The Millionaires. By F. F. Moore. 

245. The Looms of Time. By .Mrs. II. 

Fraser. 

246. The Queen's Cup. By G. A. Henty. 

247. Dicky Monteith. By T. Gallon. 

248. The Lust of Hate. By G. Boothby. 

249. The Gospel Writ in Steel. By Ar- 

thur Paterson. 

2,50. The Widower. By W. E. Norris. 
2ol. The Scourge of God. By J. 

Bloundelle Burton. 

253. Concerning Isabel Carnaby. By 
Ellen Thorne ycropt Fowler. 

253. The Impediment. By D. Gerard. 

254. Belinda— and Some Others. By 

Ethel Maude. 

255. The Key of the Holy House. By 

Albert Lee. 

2.56. A Winter of Books. ByG. Paston. 

257. The Knight of the Golden Chain. 

By R. D. Chetwode. 

258. Ricroft of Withens. By Halli- 

WELL Sutcliffe. 

259. The Procession of Life. By Hor- 

ace A. Vachell. 

260. By Berwen Banks. By A. Raine. 

261. Pharos., the Egyptian. By Guy 

Boothby. 

2C2. Paul Carah. Comishman. By 
Charles Lee. 


263. Pursued by the Law. By J. Mac- 

Laren Cobban. 

264. Madame Izdn. By Mrs. Camp- 

bell-Praed. 

265. T 01 tune's my Foe. By J. Bloun- 

delle-Burton. 

266. A Cosmopolitan Comedy. By 

Anna Robeson Brown. 

267. The Kingdom of Hate. By T. 

Gallon. 

268. The Game and the Candle. Ly 

Rhoda Broughton. 

269. Dr. Sikola's Experiment. By 

Guy Boothby. 

270. The Strange Story of Hester 

Wynne. By G. Colmore. 

271. Lady Barbarity. By J. C. Snaith. 

272. A Bitter Heritage. By John 

Bloundelle-Burton. 

273. The Heiress of the Season. By Sir 

William Magnay, Bart. 

274. A Voyage at Anchor. By W. 

Clark Russell. 

275. The Idol of the Blind. By T. 

Gallon. 

276. A Corner of the West. By Edith 

Henrietta Fowler. 

277. The St07y of Ronald Kestrel. By 
A. J. Dawson. 

278. The World's Mercy. By M. Gray. 

279. The Gentleman Pensioner. By 

Albert Lee. 

280. A Maker of Nations. By Guy 

Boothby. 

281. Miiny-Ann. By Norma Lorimkr. 

282. The Immortal Garland. By Anna 

Robeson Brown. 

283. Garthowen. By Allen Raine. 

284. The Lunatic at Laige. By J. 

Storer Clouston.x 

285. The Seafarers. By John Bloun- 

delle-IBurton. 

283. The Minister's Guest. By Isabel 
Smith. 

287. The Last Sentence. By M. Gray. 

288. Brown of I.ost River. By Mary 

E. Stickney. 

289. The Jay-Hawkers. By Adela E. 

Orpen. 

290. The Flower of the Flock. By W. 

E. Norris. 

291. A Private Chivalry. By Francis 

Lynde. 

292. King Stork of the Netherlands. 

Bv‘ A lbert Lee. 

293. Path and Goal. By Ada Cair- 

bridge. ^ 

294. Mu Indian Queen. By Guy 

Boothby. 

295. A Heroin Hmiespun. By Wm. E. 

Barton. 

296. A Royal Exchange. By J. Mac- 

Laren Cobban. 


J>. APPLETON AND COMPANY,- NEW YORK. 


EPIC OF THE WEST/' 


The Girl at the Halfway House. 

A Romance of the Plains. By E. Hough, author of The 
Story of the Cowboy.’’ izmo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

The author of The Girl at the Halfway House,” Mr. E. 
Hough, gained general recognition by his remarkable book, The 
Story of the Cowboy,” published by D. Appleton and Com- 
pany in this country, and also published in England. 

‘^The Girl at the Halfway House” has been called an 
American epic by critics who have read the manuscript. The 
author illustrates the strange life of the great westward movement 
which became so marked in this country after the civil war. A 
dramatic picture of a battlefield, which has been compared to 
scenes in ‘‘The Red Badge of Courage,” opens the story. After 
this “Day of War,” in which the hero and heroine first meet, 
there comes “The Day of the Buffalo.” The reader follows 
the course of the hero and his friend, a picturesque old army 
veteran, to the frontier, then found on the Western plains. The 
author, than whom no one can speak with fuller knowledge, 
pictures the cowboy on his native range, the wild life of the buf- 
falo hunters, the coming of the white-topped emigrant wagons, 
and the strange days of the early land booms. Into this new 
world comes the heroine, whose family finally settles near at hand, 
illustrating the curious phases of the formation of a prairie home. 
The third part of the story, called “The Day of the Cattle,” 
sketches the wild days when the range cattle covered the plains 
and the cowboys owned the towns. The fourth part of the story 
is called “The Day of the Plow,” and in this we find that the 
buffalo has passed from the adopted country of hero and heroine, 
and the era of towns and land booms has begun. 

Nothing has been written on the opening of the West to 
excel this romance in epic quality, and its historic interest, as well 
as its freshness, vividness, and absorbing interest, should appeal 
to every American reader. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


BOOKS BY J. A* ALTSHELER. 


The Wilderness Road* 

A Romance of St. Claires Defeat and Wayne’s Victory, i zmo. 
Cloth, $1.50. 

“That Mr. Altsheler has caught the wild, free spirit of the life vhich he 
depicts is evident on every page, and nowhere more so than in one of his 
final chapters, ‘The Meeting of the Chiefs,’ where he vitalizes the life-and- 
death struggle of a friendly and a hostile Indian.’ — New York Mail and 
Express. 

In Qrclingf Camps* 

A Romance of the American Civil War. i 2mo. Cloth, $ 1 . 50. 

“ We do not often get as fine a picture as that which Mr. Altsheler paints. 
The tale covers the period from the election and the inauguration of Lincoln 
until the surrender of Lee and the entrance of the Northern army into Rich- 
mond. . . . Every good American who enjoys the smell of powder and the 
crack of the rifle will appreciate the chapters that describe the battle of 
Gettysburg.” — T/ze Bookznan. 

A Herald of the West* 

An American Story of i 81 1-1815, i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“A portion of our history that has not before been successfully embodied 
in fiction. . . . Extremely well written, condensed, vivid, picturesque, and 
there is continual action. ... A rattling good story, and unrivaled in fiction 
for its presentation of the American feeling toward England during our 
second conflict.” — Boston Herald. 

A Soldier of Manhattan^ 

And his Adventures at Ticonderoga and Quebec, i 2mo. Cloth, 
Ji.oo; paper, 50 cents. 

“ Graphic and intensely interesting. . . . The book may be warmly com- 
mended as a good specimen of the fiction that makes history real and living.” 
— San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ The story is told in such a simple, direct way that it holds the reader’s 
interest to the end, and gives a most accurate picture of the times.” — Boston 
Transcript. 

The Sun of Saratogfa* 

A Romance of Burgoyne’s Surrender. 1 2mo. Cloth, $i.QO; 
paper, 50 cents. 

“Taken altogether, ‘ The Sun of Saratoga’ is the best historical novel of 
American origin that has been written for years, if not, indeed, in a fresh, 
simple, unpretending, unlabored, manly way, that we have ever read.” — Aew 
York Mail and Express. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


BOOKS BY ALBERT LEE. 

Each^ l2mo, cloth, $L00j paper, 50 cents. 


King Stork of the Netherlands. 

A Romance of the days of the Dutch Republic. 

‘‘The story throbs with life. Mr. Lee is to be congratulated on having 
given us a vivid picture, and on having infused into it a naturalness and an 
interest which chain the attention.'* — FhUadelfhta Telegraph. 

“ An exciting story, with a historical setting. ... A charming love 
story runs through it all.’* — Schenectady Union. 

“Mr. Lee’s story is an exciting one from start to finish. We strongly 
recommend it to lovers of romance.” — Rochester Herald. 

The Gentleman Pensioner. 

A Romance of the Year 1 569. 

“ A tale of rapid and thrilling incident. The author displays extraordinary 
fertility of invention in that regard, making the succession of perils that con- 
front the hero not only swiftly following each other, but of a variety and 
ingenuity of difference as surprising as the swiftness of their succession.” — 
Chicago Chronicle. 

“ A pretty love story runs through the narrative of thrilling adventures 
to a happy ending. Not the least charm of the work is its realistic and graphic 
depiction of social conditions and manners.” — Philadelphia Press. 

“ There is good, honest fighting, and some pretty love scenes with very 
carefully composed pictures of the life of the period, in which due regard is 
had to history.” — Philadelphia Times. 

“The story is cleverly told, gives one a splendid notion of the social man- 
ner of the Elizabethan period, and entertains one with a love affair of singular 
beauty and interest.” — Rochester Herald. 

The Key of the Holy House. 

A Romance of Old Antwerp. 

“ A romance of Antwerp in the days of the Spanish oppression. Mr. 
Lee handles it in vigorous fashion.” — London Spectator. 

“This is a fascinating specimen of the historical romance at its best, the 
romance which infuses energetic life into the dry facts of history.” — Phila- 
delphia Press. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


BOOKS BY ALLEN RAINE. 


Each^ l2mo, doth, $1*00; paper, 50 cents* 


Garthowen : A Welsh Idyl. 

“ Wales has long waited for her novelist, but he seems to have come zf 
last in the person of Mr. Allen Raine, who has at once proved himself a worthy 
interpreter and exponent of the romantic spirit of his country.” — London Dally 
Mail, 

By Berwen Banks. 

Mr. Raine enters into the lives and traditions of the people, and herein 
lies the charm of his stories.” — Chicago Tribune. 

“ Interesting from the beginning, and grows more so as it proceeds.” — 
San Francisco Bulletin. 

It has the same grace of style, strength of description, and dainty sweet- 
■hCiss of its predecessors.” — Boston Saturday F.'vening Gazette. 


Torn Sails. 

“ It is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare before us, 
very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points of Welsh 
character — the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath. ... We 
call this a well-written story, interesting alike through its romance and its 
glimpses into another life than ours.” — Detroit Free Press. 

“Allen Raine’s work is in the right direction and worthy of all honor.” 

- — Boston Budget. 

Mifanwy: A Welsh Singer. 

“ Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in that touching and 
quaint strain which never grows wearisome no matter how often the lights and 
shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, and does not tax the imagi- 
nation.” — Boston Herald. 

“One of the most charming tales that has come to us of late.” — Brooklyn 
Eagle. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


BOOKS BY FRANK T. BULLEN. 


The Log of a Sea-Waif. 

Being Recollections of the First Four Years of my Sea Life. 
Illustrated. Uniform Edition. i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

The brilliant author of “The Cruise of the Cachalot” and “Idylls of the 
Sea” presents in this new work the continuous story of the actual experiences 
of his first four years at sea. In graphic and picturesque phrases he has sketched 
the events of voyages to the West Indies, to Bombay and the Coromandel coast, 
to Melbourne and Rangoon. Nothing could be of more absorbing interest 
than this wonderfully vivid account of foks’l humanity, and the adventures and 
strange sights and experiences attendant upon deep-sea voyages. It is easy to see 
in this book an English companion to our own “Two Years before the Mast.” 

Idylls of the Sea. 

I zmo. Cloth, ^1.25. 

“The ‘deep-sea wonder and mystery’ which Kipling found in Frank T. 
Bullen’s ‘ Cruise of the Cachalot ’ is appreciable again in this literary mate’s 
new book, ‘Idylls of the Sea.’ We feel ourselves tossed with him at the 
mercy of the weltering elements,” etc. — Philadelphia Record. 

“ Amplifies and intensifies the picture of the sea which Mr. Bullen had 
already produced. . . . Calm, shipwreck, the surface and depths of the sea, 
the monsters of the deep, superstitions and tales of the sailors — all find a place 
in this strange and exciting book.” — Chicago Times-Herald. 

The Cruise of the Cachalot, 

Round the World after Sperm Whales. Illustrated. izmo. 
vloth, $1.50. 

“It is immense — there is no other word. I’ve never read anything that 
equals it in its deep-sea wonder and mystery, nor do I think that any book before 
has so completely covered the whole business of whale fishing, and, at the same 
i:ime, given such real and new sea pictures. I congratulate you most heartily. 
It’s a new world you’ve opened the door to.” — Rudyard Kipling. 

“Written with racy freedom of literary expression and luxuriant abundance 
of incident, so that ‘The Cruise of the Cachalot ’ becomes a story of fascinating 
vividness which thrills the reader and amuses him. The volume is no less en^ 
thralling than ‘Two Years before the Mast,’ and higher praise can not be 
accorded to a story of the sea. ... A book of such extraordinary merit as 
seldom comes to hand.” — Philadelphia Press. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


By ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER. 


Each, t2mo, cloth, $t.50. 

Sirius. 

A new book by the author of “ Concerning Isabel Carnaby” and “ The 
Farringdons” needs no introduction. All readers of the best fiction know 
her epigrammatic quality and humor, her adroitness in the suggestion of 
character, and her command of original situations and unexpected social 
climaxes. Her new book is a gallery of vivid miniature of various phases of 
English life. Its unfailing interest will increase the author’s well-earned 
reputation. 

Cupid’s Garden. With new portrait of the Author. 

“Whatever this author sends out has freshness and originality, and her 
sketches of people are so deftly drawn that one wonders at the versatility. 
‘Cupid’s Garden’ is a collection of stories of love, not all of which run 
smooth, but which ail exhibit some noble trait of the tender passion.” 
— Indianapolis News, 

The Farringdons. 

“ Miss Fowler makes her own audience, which, large as it is in England, 
must be even larger in this country. There is a deeper note in this story than 
any she has yet sounded. . . . ‘ The Farringdons’ is, above all else, a procla- 
mation to the world that the religion which Christ brought to humanity is a 
living power, undiminished in strength, the mainspring of the actions and 
aspirations of millions of Anglo-Saxons.” — New York Mail and Express, 

Concerning Isabel Carnaby. New edition, with 
Portrait and Biographical Sketch of the Author. 

“No one who reads it will regret it or forget it.” — Chicago Tribune. 

“ For brilliant conversations, epigrammatic bits of philosophy, keenness 
of wit, and full insight into human nature, ‘ Concerning Isabel Carnaby ’ is 
a remarkable success.” — Boston Transcript, 


A Double Thread. 

“ The excellence of her writing makes her book delightful reading. She 
is genial and sympathetic without being futile, and witty without being 
cynical.” — Literature, London. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


THREE GOOD NOVELS, 

Eacht l2mo, cloth, $J*50* 


The Wilderness Road^ 

A Romance of St, Clair s Defeat and Wayne^s Victory, By J. 
A. Altsheler, author of In Circling Camps/’ ‘^A Herald of 
the West,” etc. 

“ Full of health and vigorous life.” — Chicago Journal. 

“The author is one of those who do not need warm commendation} his 
name will carry any story.” — Buffalo Commercial . 

“There is a strong odor of the open country, and many fine pictures of the 
woodland in this book, and above it all stands out the eternal interest the reader 
takes in the characters.” — Ne^u York Journal. 

“ He takes his situations, always lively, dramatic, and full of possibilities, 
and handles them with an ease and adroitness the skill of which is more and 
more apparent as, in their turnings and twistings, they constantly flash upon the 
fascinated reader some new phase, yet ever leave him in the dark as to the 
next move or the final outcome. — Chicago Tribune. 

The Curious Courtship of Kate Poins^ 

By Louis Evan Shipman. Illustrated. 

“One of the best written novels of the year. It will be widely read and 
generally admired. The romance has vigor, tone, and cumulative interest that 
increases as the story ascends to its climax.” — Philadelphia Item. 

“The rakish days of Beau Brummell afforded delightful material for a bril- 
liant and diverting romance, and the author of “ D’Arcy of the Guards ” has 
made fullest use of it. The story lacks little in either boldness or brilliancy.” 
— Clc'veland IVorld, 

The Luck of the Vails* 

A Romance, By E. F. Benson, author of Dodo,” The 
Rubicon,” Mammon & Co.” 

“ Attention is held firmly from the first spell of interest to the final cli- 
max.” — Newark Ad’vertiser. 

“ Really an interesting story, and whoever begins it will want to read it 
through.” — Waterhury American. 

“ The story is well told, the interest is sustained throughout, working up 
to a fitting climax, and the book is full of bright, entertaining conversation.” — 
Chicago Journal. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


DAVID HARUM ILLUSTRATED. 


David Harum. 

A Story of American Life. By Edward Noyes 
Westcott. Illustrated edition, entirely reset. 
With some seventy full-page and text pictures by 
B. West Clinedinst, and other text designs by C. 
B. Farrand, and a Biography of the Author by 
Forbes Heermans. i 2 mo. Gilt top, uncut, $ 2 . 00 . 

In response to the many inquiries which have shown a general 
desire for an illustrated edition of David Harum,” the Messrs. 
Appleton have fortunately been able to arrange with the distin- 
guished artist, Mr. B. West Clinedinst, N. A., who has been 
peculiarly interested in the book, and has accepted the commission 
with an enthusiasm and perfect appreciation which have produced 
the happiest and most sympathetic results. Mr. Clinedinst’s study 
of the character and his rendering of types show a comprehension 
of Mr. Westcott’ s creations and a quick sense of humor which 
would have delighted the lamented author. 

Also, Edition de Luxe of the above, printed in tints, 
with copperplate photogravures, large paper, uncut, 8 vo, ^10.00. 

“ Mr. Clinedinst has thoroughly grasped the humor of Mr. Westcott’s 
hero ” — T^e Dial, 

“ Thus illustrated, the novel acquires a fresh charm.” — Boston Cong?-ega- 
tionalist. 

“ It comes with a fresh attraction, like an old friend in holiday attire.” 
—Portland Express. 

“ The book is sure to give shrewd, kindly old David Harum a wider circle 
of friends than ever, and to delight all who have loved him loyally since his 
first appearance.” — Chicago Interior. 

“ The hosts of readers who have already come to love Mr. Westcott’s re- 
markable contribution to American literature will eagerly welcome the 
illustrated ‘ David Harum.’ ” — Literary News. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


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